


A Boy and his Comet

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bets & Wagers, Blushing, Corporal Punishment, Crossdressing, Deception, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, F/M, Genderbending, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Public Humiliation, Recreational Drug Use, Rescue, Rimming, Spanking, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: Mon-El is bored after having being sent to a remote outpost by his mother, until a mysterious new guard with stunning blue eyes catches his attention.Or: The one where Kara goes undercover as a boy and Mon-El is still very much interested.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story has alternating points of view and as long as Mon-El hasn't found out Kara's secret, he'll think of Kara as "he" in his sections. Since this story is set on Daxam, it goes to some pretty dark places. I will try to post warnings on the individual chapters, so you can skip them if need be. 
> 
> I have no beta reader and English is not my first language :( 
> 
> The basic AU setup is a world where Kara is a grown up, but Krypton hasn't been destroyed yet and her and Mon-El are close in age. This story is 30.000+ words and I'll try to post it relatively quickly.
> 
> Loosely inspired by Never Let Me Go by FangirlInTheForest https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581461/

Mon-El yawned and gently nudged the cerisian countess out of his bed. He felt a pang of guilt. After all, not many guests bothered visiting him in his exile of unfiltered boredom. Still, his interest in early morning conversation was non-existent and so he excused himself (mostly) politely and sent along well wishes to her mother.

After a quick shower, the prince decided to take his breakfast on the balcony. The mining province was gray and lonely, mostly populated by robots, slaves and their supervising crews. Only in a place like this would watching his guards daily exercises count as entertainment.

Mon-El would never admit it out loud, but the men’s training routines had also gotten more interesting for one specific reason. Kar was the most recent addition to his honor guard. A scrawny young man from one of the colonies, he had found a place here only after emerging victorious in a sharp shooting competition.

Everything about him screamed wrong. Too young, too weak, too inexperienced, too poor. Normally, the powerful families of the land were falling all over themselves to place their sons or at least good looking, capable representatives in this position.

Yet here he was, this stranger without a powerful family, with exquisite blue eyes that turned almost violet in Daxam’s red sun, shoulders too narrow, arms too slender, hips too wide, bullied and pushed around by his peers. It was hard for Mon-El not to pay attention to him, even as he feigned indifference. There was an elusive quality about that youth who Mon-El had secretly dubbed comet boy for brilliant lightness of his eyes.

Most of the guards that Mon-El liked ended up in his bed sooner or later. Sometimes even the ones he didn’t care for, but whose families were important enough to be offended if their offspring was left out. But this one… he had a way of not being around whenever the guards celebrated. Mon-El had managed to corner him once or twice, to steal a kiss, but the youth was as graceful at dodging more purposeful embraces as he was at turning hard punches into glancing blows during training.

Mon-El frowned. He had dealt with skittish lovers before, when he seduced foreign dignitaries for sport or to provoke his mother. However, it was not a quality he was used to from his Daxamites. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. The little comet was not even remotely his type. Just like he liked his women mysterious and feminine, he liked his men good natured and jovial, more like a twin who you also got to fuck. In fact, he had frequently thumbed his nose at the kind of people who preferred their boys girlish and looking young beyond their years. But Kar… something about watching him tugged at Mon-El’s heart and his cock at the same time, leaving him hot and bothered and confused. Unsure whether he just wanted to hand the boy money and send him home to his family to end his miserable stay or to take him to his bed and feed him grapes between those soft, pink lips.

He shook off those thoughts as he descended down the steps into the courtyard.

 

***

 


	2. Mon-El

Kara sighed. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were focused on the training partner in front of her, expecting his first blow. Her whole body was tense as she tried to read her opponent’s body language. Sweat dripped down her back. The entire time it was like she could physically feel the prince’s gaze upon the back of her neck. When all she had wanted was to be invisible. Yet from the moment she arrived, all those plans had quickly been dashed.

_She stood shoulder to shoulder with the other bodyguards, her stomach flipping nervously. This would be her first time encountering the prince. Don’tfuckupdon’tfuckup, she told herself. All he had to do was walk past her and she would be accepted into the corp and be infinitely closer to her goal._

_The prince walked along the line of soldiers, not bothering to hide the expression of boredom on his face, his body turned lightly towards the captain who was walking with him. And then he stopped. Right in front of her. Kara’s heart was racing, as she tried to control her breathing. Why was he stopping? Had he noticed something suspicious?_

“ _I haven’t seen you before. Where are you from, soldier?”_

_Kara desperately stared at a spot over the prince’s shoulder. “Dax’se,” she said and prayed internally that her voice wouldn’t falter. The prince nodded absentmindedly. He reached for her chin and gently turned her face towards him. “You have the most unusual eyes. What’s your name, boy?” A blush rose up Kara’s cheeks. “I’m Kar,” she said. A smile spread out on the prince’s face. Why? Why was he smiling? “I look forward to working with you,” he said, with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes._

“ _It, it will be my honor,” Kara stammered._

_"It sure will be." The prince grinned and moved along._

Ever since that day, it was like he was always looking at her, his eyes always glancing over her when he came to look over the troops, driving color to her cheeks. At first Kara had been worried, that he could tell, that he knew her secret. But no calls “seize her!” or “traitor, Kryptonian scum” had ever come forth and Kara had learned for force herself to relax. Of course, it hadn’t been long before she had realized just how wrong she was.

“ _There you are.”_

_Kara whipped around. “My prince!”_

_The prince smiled self-satisfied. “You are quite good at hiding.”_

_Kara blushed. “I was just trying to find a good vantage point.”_

“ _To protect me.”_

“ _Yeah.”_

_The prince leaned in. “You do know that your position is largely ceremonial, right? Any real threat that comes close would have to slip through the net of the Black Cloak,” he said, referencing Daxam’s feared secret police._

_Kara looked down on her feet. “I knew that.”_

“ _If there was any real work to be done, you can be sure we wouldn’t take on any pampered sons of noble families. So, how are you enjoying your stay so far?”_

_Kara scrunched her nose. It had been okay so far. Daxamites really were as crass and reckless as the records said, but Kara kept her head low and her shirts dirty. She had earned herself the nickname “Stinky” for her refusal to shower with the others. It wasn’t really fair though, several of the richer soldiers paid for their own accommodations. None of these problems however were fit to be discussed with others. Kara was a terrible liar and she knew it, that’s why she kept quiet as much as possible._

“ _It’s, it’s okay.”_

_The prince laughed. “Well, you did choose the worst time to enter my employ. Just as we stuck in this forsaken shithole.”_

“ _It’s not that bad,” she protested._

_He looked at her from the side. “It worries me that you might actually believe that. Have you ever been to the capitol?”_

“ _Once, as a child.” Kara breathed lightly in relief. At least this part of her cover story matched her real biography._

“ _It likely changed a lot since then.”_

“ _I suppose so.”_

“ _So, who are you really, little Kar from Dax’se?”_

_Kara looked down, avoiding the prince’s gaze. “I’m nobody.”_

_The prince raised an eyebrow._

“ _Isn’t everybody?”_

_She looked up at him in surprise.“Surely not you, the prince, I mean,” Kara insisted._

_He laughed._

“ _I’m the biggest nobody of them all. Here,” he held up a cup. “Surely you won’t refuse me a drink?”_

_Internally, Kara did a double take, but she managed to grab the goblet without any outward sign of hesitation. Be forceful. Be charming. Be Daxamite. Everything the Daxamites ate and drank was oozing with mind altering chemicals, but especially so their beverages, the ones consumed at parties. She raised the cup to her lips and tilted it, but kept her lips closed. “Thank you, my liege,” she murmured and returned to cup to its owner._

_The prince stared at her. A shiver ran down Kara’s spine. He had a way of looking at her, like he was seeing right into her soul._

_Suddenly, he leaned forward, his breath warm and wet against her lips, and then he kissed her. “Oh,” Kara whispered. A blush crept up her cheeks as she held still as he kissed the last few traces of wine from her lips. Kara had gotten her butt slapped a couple of times and received invitations to share a bunk on two separate occasions. So far it had been easy enough to laugh it off with a joke, but dodging the pursuit of a prince would be a very different matter. Any real Daxamite in her position would be over the moon over this opportunity._

_Without thinking she opened her mouth to him and the kiss deepened. Oh Rao, she could taste the wine he’d offered her._

_"My prince!"_

_They jerked apart. Except he didn't, at least not fully. His hands were still on her arms, his eyes still transfixed on her, even as the master of festivities was trying to get his attention, requesting that the he return to the party._

„ _I guess it can‘t be helped. Duty calls,“ the prince said, his voice dipping into a low, languid drawl that had a way of getting under a skin. „See you soon, Kar of Dax‘se“._

_He walked out and left her behind with her cheeks burning._

“You’ll run into a wall, if you keep staring up at him.”

“What?”

Annoyed, Makt indicated towards the royal balcony with his head. “You. The prince.”

"I wasn't staring."

"Of course not." Makt sighed and tapped the right side of her neck with the training baton.

"Oww."

"See that wouldn't happen, if you weren't so busy staring."

"I wasn't!" Kara grumbled. “I was glancing, at the most.”

“ _What is his real name, anyway?”_

_Makt frowned. “What do you mean?”_

“ _The prince. His real name.”_

“ _You know that his name is hidden from the public.”_

“ _But you are an aristo. Surely you guys know.”_

“ _They call him Rhejaya, Rhea’s son,” Makt said evasively._

“ _Yes, I know that. But somebody has to know his real name.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is really him, right?” It was common knowledge that the royal family employed several body doubles in the media, so the prince’s face wouldn’t be well known._

“ _Well, if he isn’t my family wasted a lot of money bribing the wrong person.” Kara nudged her fellow guard with her shoulder. “Alright, alright, yes, it’s him. I’ve met him several times in the capitol. I’ve seen him talk to the queen.” Makt bristled. “The queen is quite possessive of her time, she wouldn’t waste her time talking to an imposter.”_

_He looked quietly at Kara. “There’s something brewing between the two of you.”_

“ _What? No.” Kara laughed nervously._

“ _The others don’t see it because you are not of noble blood and truth to be told, you really should bathe more often, but I see it. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there.”_

“ _Is that why you are talking to me?”_

“ _Maybe?”_

“ _You aren’t gonna give me tips on what he likes in bed, are you?”_

_Makt scoffed. “Like I would give away trade secrets like that.”_

Kara readied herself, re-assuming the first combat position. She purposefully turned her back to the battlements this time. The prince liked to walk along them on his way to the hangar every morning during their training, walking slowly, oh so slowly.

Kara forced herself to concentrate.

Attack. Parry. Counter. Feint. By now the movement had become second nature to her. Still. Her heart was beating faster than usual, throwing off her rhythm.

And all because of HIM.

_Mon-El._

_Kara buried her face in her pillow._

_Mon-El._

_Mon-El._

_A victorious smile danced over her face. She formed the name with her lips without making a sound and wondered what it would be like to say it._

_Mon-El._

_It was an old name, from the ancient tongue. Unusual. She wondered why his parents had chosen it. It meant “The Wanderer.” Kara brought the prince’s image up in front of her mental eye. Yeah, it suited him. There was something restless about … Mon-El. Kara brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a giggle._

_It had taken her an entire week to find the oldest servant in the prince’s employ and a lot of cajoling, sweet talk and bribery with the finest spirits from the prince’s personal stash had finally loosened the man’s tongue. Yes, so it didn’t have anything to do with the real mission she was one, but she was drunk on the feeling of knowing something, something secret about the prince with his maddening stormy eyes._

_It felt good._

_It felt powerful._

Something bumped against her leg as she stepped backwards, nearly tripping her. At the last second Kara dove under the staff aiming for her head. She stumbled into an upright position. Not taking her eyes off her sparring partner, she sought to avoid the obstacle that had entered her combat circle.

Kara's back stiffened. The prince strode right past her, towards her captain. With a wide, jovial smile, he slapped the captain's back and gripped his shoulder, as intimate as two long separated friends. Kara lowered her gaze down to the ground, staring at her boots.

_What was he doing down here?_


	3. The Wager

Mon-El grabbed the man's shoulder in greeting. "A fine batch of men you have and you train them so well," he said loudly. Even the last of the guards paused their training, standing expectantly of what was to come. The man in front of him nearly doubled over in supplication. "We, the men, we are so honored. I personally suggested their training regime, using the latest techniques from Dal-Naddarr…"

"Delightful.  I'd love to join in," he interrupted before the captain could launch into a full on speech.  The man stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes darting back and forth nervously. Mon-El  smiled at him demonstratively. He had to make sure the guard captain saw his foray as a compliment rather than a criticism.  "What do you say?  After all the work you put in, surely we all should profit from your knowledge. It’s men like you who can further the glory of Daxam. "

Startled the captain replied, "My prince, of course!". He eyed Mon-El nervously.

Had he been too heavy handed? Mon-El knew that his distaste for the arts of war was widely known. The captain could hardly be faulted for his surprise. Knowing he would get his way, Mon-El kept up his smile persistently, purporting not to notice the man’s pronounced nervousness. Slowly the captain relaxed, as the realization dawned on him that he had been paid a compliment and offered an opportunity. An opportunity that might not come by so quickly. Especially with a prince who couldn’t care less about warfare.

By now, the men had formed a half circle around them. Walking along their line, Mon-El smiled, nodding, shaking their hands and grabbing and squeezing their shoulders, while the captain tagged along on his side, positively overflowing with praise, both of Mon-El and his men. It wasn't often that these men had the prince come down and acknowledge them personally. It was their chance to impress and for them to reflect positively on their superior.  The captain droned on about the changes the had introduced. Mon-El pretended to listen, always making sure to interject a word at the appropriate intervals.

Once he finally reached Kar, he stopped. The young man's head shot up, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I couldn't possibly hope to measure up to your elite warriors," Mon-El said to the captain, without bothering to take his eyes off Kar. Instead of grabbing the boy's shoulder,  he ran his thumb along the boy’s jaw .  Mon-El cursed himself inwardly. His desire to put his hand on the young comet was getting out of hand.  And yet,  how could  he  resist those smooth cheeks? Here in front of him there truly was an exotic jewel  hidden by the mud. 

Mon-El knew the dangers of thinking like this. He had met quite a few social climbers back in the capital. Had watched them try to play the game,  take part in the delicate dance of etiquette , only to fail invariably, no matter how skilled they were.  It never ended well  for the ones without the money or family to cushion their fall , not even for those who got to stay. 

Now he, Mon-El, was the one, tempted to play with fire, to upset the natural order of things.  It was different back home, when it was just about upsetting his mother.  Here it was just him and these men. And the orders of his mother, the orders with the silent undertone that he should prove himself.  Mon-El had had every intention of failing her in that regard. But … the normal way. The acceptable way. The way that was just part of the larger game. 

This here, this was different. Not because it was unusual to take a commoner into a royal bed, but for all the time he had spent thinking about it.  Only Mon-El had no intention of running away from his desires. 

"Why don't you give me your least," he said huskily, pointedly ignoring the captain’s attempts to reclaim his attention, "so I might at least stand a chance. What do you say, boy?" The captain noticeably stiffened in discomfort, but didn't dare to object. His shoulders slumped as he realized that indeed the prince had not had a miraculous change of interests. Mon-El found it hard to feel pity for the man. In the end, he was a Lirrite through and through and he had never made apologies for it. Behind him, the men roared in approval, always ready for a fun game.

"Sir," the boy mumbled and bowed his head.

Mon-El seized the  comet up with his gaze, still stroking the boy's cheek with his thumb. "How about I make it worth your while?" he rasped. Then he smiled widely, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd. One step closer, he and the boy were almost nose to nose. Kar's blue comets so close.

Noticing the boy’s sharp intake of breath,  Mon-El grinned. "If you beat me, I'll suck your cock,”  he turned around and faced the men “if I win, you get to suck mine." The jeers, laughter and whistles from the crowd were deafening.  Mon-El turned back to the boy, waiting expectantly how his offer would be received. 

"My prince," the comet said simply after the voices of the other men had quieted down, calmly holding Mon-El's gaze.

A jolt ran through Mon-El's body. He wondered why he was doing this. He wanted to take the boy right here and then, dropping all pretense, in front of everybody, on this dusty ground, making this mysterious comet boy that had invaded his dreams scream with lust and abandon. Tear off his pants, swallow him, make him pant and beg. See those elusive eyes glaze over with lust. Maybe that way the spell would be broken and he would get Kar out from under his skin.

No. The challenge had been made and he would rather be caught dead than not live up to it.

Mon-El pulled himself together and smiled politely. He extended an arm to receive a training weapon.

“Let’s rock.”


	4. Round One

Tension raced across her skin. For a moment, she worried that everybody would be able to hear her racing heart.

_Breathe._

_Stay calm._

Kara forced her mind to shift back into battle mode. Sharp. Inquisitive. Blend out everything else. She was used to fighting opponents taller and stronger than her. The only way to prevail was to be faster, smarter, to have a quick eye for any weakness. The prince was slow to assume the combat position. Instead he smiled warmly, his stance wide open for attack. He accepted the training baton handed to him with a nod and twirled it in his hand.

 _"If you beat me, I'll suck your cock, if I win, you get to suck mine." "If you beat me, I'll suck your cock, if I win, you get to suck mine."_ The words echoed through Kara’s mind.

_No._

She couldn't think about that.

_Focus._

She had to focus. Look at him. His body. His movements. She … she knew that he didn’t train the way they did. Unbidden, a memory sparked through her head.

_They called them into the prince’s chambers, with a light hum of the communicators on their wrists. Together with Sar, she switched from her position outside the entry door to the inside. They walked slap dash into the morning meeting. The prince laid shirtless, stretched out prone a cot, a bored expression on his face as a slender young man with dark hair massaged his shoulders. He was wearing those, those impossibly tight pants. The ones that left nothing to the imagination as they hugged his hips._

_He yawned, as she entered with Sar and sat up on the cot, causing her to nearly trip over her feet. The servant handed him a blue shirt and he, turning his back to the audience, as the advisers continued their report, pulled it over his head. The fine cloth sliding down slowly to cover the skin of his naked back._

_With a light nod towards the dark haired servant, Mon-El stretched. First up, his arms towards the ceiling and then, to Kara’s horror, dipping down, easily touching the floor. Right in front of everybody. Heat shot into her cheeks._

_He was doing it intentionally! That had to be it!_

_She found it hard to concentrate on the conversation going on between the two older men, bickering in the background, talking about yields and harvests. Mon-El didn’t seem to have the same problem. He interjected a sentence, every once in a while, even as the dark haired servant ran his hand over the prince’s arms and down his back, before they went through a series of stretches together._

_At the end, he stopped. Carefully, he bent forward and raised his leg, standing on one foot, arms extended, like a graceful bird, carrying on his conversation like this was the most natural thing in the world. “Have her make a better offer,” he said. Still on one foot, he switched to an upright position, his other leg forming a triangle against his knee, his hands stretching towards the ceiling once more, the movement pulling his shirt upwards to reveal…_

“ _My liege, the matron insists that the price needs to be paid...”_

 _The prince pulled his arms back, close to his side, his hands meeting behind his back_ _as he bent forward_ _._

_Wait._

_Was he wobbling._ _Kara gasped and instinctively stepped_ _towards him_ _. Before she could catch him, he looked up and laughed, easily catching himself, perfectly balancing his pose._

_Kara’s face turned red. He had tricked her!_

_She scowled at him and he laughed even harder._

That smile.

He was still smiling, an amused spark in his eye, uncaring that his guard was wide open. He had been trained for exercise, for grace and fashion, not to fight and die.

Even most of her peers among the guards fought aggressively mainly for show. It wasn’t serious to them. Not the way it was for her. They didn’t have to fear for their lives.

Mon-El twirled the baton in his hand and then tapped it playfully against hers, indicating that he was ready for the start of the competition.

Aggression exploded out of her.

She bashed back, taking him by surprise and pushing him off balance. She followed it up by ducking. Seeing her opening, she swiped his leg with hers, placing her foot behind him and crashing into him with her entire weight. Pain radiated from her thigh, her instincts took over.

One heartbeat later, he was below her, on the ground, withher straddling his chest, holding the baton across his throat.

Kara froze.

_No._

_This was wrong._

_She shouldn’t have._

_She wasn’t allowed to._

Below her, Mon-El blinked slowly. Kara could feel his breathing as the up and down of his ribcage between her legs. Everyone had stopped their exercises and was staring at them.

Kara jumped up, as if burned. Her eyes darted around in a panic, looking for a way to escape.

“I’m fine,” the prince said.

He raised one hand. Kara blinked, then, realizing what he wanted, stepped forward to grab it. He pulled himself up. Once more, he stood right across her, close enough to touch.

“You took me by surprise,” he said and then lowered his voice. “I’ll take that as a compliment, to see you so eager to win.”

***

Having disarmed the shocked atmosphere, Mon-El re-assumed the starting stance.

Okay, so he hadn’t truly counted on winning against his guard, no matter how much he liked to mock the uselessness of their position. His disdain for the arts of war was well known and something he reveled in. Still, his overly quick defeat had chipped his pride just a little bit.

He grinned at the comet. All the more reason to get sweet revenge. Once their competition was over, he would toy with the boy’s sweet body mercilessly and not stop till he was satisfied with the pleas for mercy and release. Mon-El would teach him that there were ways for passion to conquer war, just like Lirra had brought Mordru to her heel.

The youth seemed unsure of himself. His hands were wrapped around the staff, so tight his knuckled had whitened. His eyes searched around, unclear on whether he was allowed to defeat the prince. Mon-El bopped the boy on the hip with his training baton and flashed him a reassuring smile. Kar whirrled around, his eyes searching Mon-El’s face, trying to decipher what was expected of him.

“I want a fair fight,” Mon-El said. Another teasing smile for the comet. “Show me what you want and what you are willing to do to get it.”

They boy stilled and then, sucking in a deep breath, calmed himself. He seemed to have come to some sort of decision, because the comet’s features hardened, crystal blue eyes taking on a look of determination. Mon-El couldn’t help but appreciate. So strange, so mysterious. He couldn’t wait to have all of this back in his bed, so he could finally untangle all the mysteries that the comet wrapped himself in.

As they continued their dance, it took him a while to realize that the comet had apparently decided to go through the most basic combat routine. Every time Mon-El made a mistake, rather than capitalizing, Kar just withdrew, resetting the exercise.

Mon-El felt vaguely condescended to. He wasn’t a kid anymore who had to be taught the basic movements of combat again. Granted, he had taken pleasure in driving his teachers and his mother white hot mad by _not_ perfecting them, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know how they worked.

Still it was hard to stay truly mad at the comet, when he seemed so focused. Even if that focus was on _not_ beating Mon-El. Mon-El smiled to himself. A lot of people he met were unsure how to act around him, to find the perfect balance of respect and supplication.

Somehow he was quite confident that the comet would figure it out.


	5. Round Two

Their batons clashed. Kara stepped back and with a light pirouette returned to another standard feint. Drawing out the combat with some more basic movements would at least give her time to think.

 _Daxam_.

She had always thought of him that way. Before she knew his name, he had been Daxam to her. Everything it was, everything it stood for. Cocky and prideful and in your face. Even the way he walked was … She remembered how she had heard the tales of Daxam as a child, with horror and bated breath. The shocking knowledge that their species were closely related, yet their traditions could be so different from Krypton’s. She remembered praying and meditating on that seeming conundrum and how it had just reaffirmed her belief in the validity of the ways of Rao.

As she got older, she had been given more advanced materials. Accessible only to her, as a writer when they were banned from normal use as not to disturb the populace. She had spent nights feverishly writing retorts and public damnation, tabulating in minute detail everything that was wrong about Daxam. It was the first and only time something she had written had been rejected by the board of censors for being too incendiary.

She remembered the nervous apprehension she had felt as she approached the planet in the stealth pod Jor-El had designed for her. She was a woman now, more experienced in how the world and society worked. Surely those things she had heard about Daxam, it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Only that’s what it was like and even more. It appalled her, offended her every sensibility and forced her not to show it.

And he, when she met him he seemed to embody everything that made Daxam so alluring and terrifying at the same time. The symbol of something powerful, strange and twisted and yet so close to what she was too.

And then the ... fornicating. 

The way Daxamites had sex, the way they expressed desire always unsettled Kara. Blatant. Raw. Not as a private expression of affection, but as a demonstration of power. When she read about Daxam growing up, she had just assumed that it was a weakness of their character, that they couldn’t help themselves. After she’d come here, she realized that it was a complex web of social interactions, she had barely begun to understand.

Now the personification of all of that was standing in front of her.

Except…

“ _Give me a moment.”_

_Kara looked over to Makt. They were supposed to pick up the prince for a trip to the next city. He’d already changed into his more regal clothes, the kind he wore for more official functions. Normally Kara, no Kar, was deemed too short and not representative enough to attend these kind of events, but apparently she was good enough for transfer._

_Only he wasn’t ready yet._

“ _I still have a call to make. Now turn around.” She and Makt complied. Kara heard the distinct sound of a holo flickering to life._

“ _My prince,” a rattling voice, a woman, probably older, said. Behind their backs Mon-El was walking around, rummaging through containers._

“ _How’s the stable?” Mon-El asked._

“ _Everything is in order.”_

“ _Spotted flu is gone?”_

“ _All gone.”_

_Mon-El whistled, apparently having found what he’d been looking for. “And how is she?”_

“ _All well.” Kara thought she heard a little smile in the woman’s voice. She couldn’t help trying to steal a glance, even as Makt gave her a dirty look._

“ _How many?”_

“ _Three.”_

“ _Three?!” The prince sounded surprised and there was an undertone in his voice that Kara wasn’t really used to._

_Okay._

_So she wasn’t supposed to look._

_But something irresistible pulled her. Just a quick peek._

_On the holo and older woman, streaks of gray in her hair, her clothes thick and leathery, covered with smudges of dirt and tears, was leaning over, evidently going for something out of holo’s reach. The picture wobbled and broke as it tried to adjust. She groaned demonstratively, making a show out of the effort she was putting in. With a big grin, she rose and with her she pulled a baby dragon, holding it up for the holo lens. The little creature whipped its tail and tried for a menacing hiss, but it came out closer to frightened squawk._

_Kara gasped. She immediately raised her hand to her mouth to hide it, but she wasn’t the only one smiling. The prince stood with the biggest grin on his face, just looking at his dragon’s pup, without saying a word. His smile only widened as the dragon keeper huffed and puffed and pulled out a second drakling, draping it over her shoulder._

“ _I’m glad,” Mon-El said finally. “And the mother?”_

“ _All well.”_

“ _Good.”_

_Mon-El turned around and Kara quickly turned away. He had noticed, right? He had to have done so. Her face ran red again. She stood rigid as a board as the prince thanked the old dragon keeper and said his goodbye._

“ _Let’s go,” he said, sounding absentminded as he stepped through her and Makt._

“ _Congratulations!” Kara burst out._

_The prince turned to her. “You follow the sport as well?”_

_Kara lowered her head and mumbled something unintelligible. She couldn’t easily admit that the last time she had seen a daxamite dragon had been as a child and she had never gotten to touch one._

Their fight was like a dance. It disconcerted her, how easy she found it to settle into the rhythm. She trained with the other guards all the time, but it was never this … hypnotic? Normally, she always feared for her life, no matter how small the exercise was. Even when she knew that her opponents had no interest in seriously harming her. Just one wrong move, just one person who looked at her too closely, just one accusation from somebody who didn’t like her and she would be exposed.

With the prince, it was different.

_"If you beat me, I'll suck your cock, if I win, you get to suck mine."_

Her cheeks turned red. He cared about … different things. He liked looking at her and he saw her when others didn’t, and yet he had never said a thing to suggest that he was suspicious. He didn’t care about the squabbles of the guards and he didn’t truly care about winning. To him, this really was just a game.

Kara allowed herself to relax. For a moment she let herself slip completely into the movement.

Back home, she could fight for hours against her father’s training robot. Here, she could just feel, just be her body, to feel the strain of muscles and sinews and the droplets of sweat running down her back. It took her a while to realize, that there was a style to his fighting. Rather than just following her routines, he had started to react back. He moved gracefully, almost playful and she followed him. Without realizing it, she found herself copying him, answering his foray with a twirl, running the baton along the small of his back as she evaded him.

Till suddenly, out of the blue, she found herself face to face with the prince, her breathing ragged and heavy and just a smidgen too fast. Her heart beat fast and strong as she looked up, away from just focusing on his body.

“You know,” he said softly. “As much as I like doing this, at some point somebody has to win.”

***

_They lay in the wet grass, hidden behind a tree trunk, their bodies curled towards each other. Most of the time hunting bored Mon-El and he would have preferred some fun time at the races, dancing or even steeped in discussion, but particularly here, good entertainment was hard to come by. But he had also found that for a lot of his male pursuits the hunt, this earthy proximity of blood and death seemed to be an excellent ice breaker, particularly for men who weren’t part of the court. He hoped that it would be worth the long travel time they had endured to get here. Though he had to admit, that it had already been a lot of fun when he had dumped the heavy equipment into the comet's arms and watched him struggle, teetering, almost falling over till Mon-El took pity and passed the burden off to somebody else._

_The hunting party had split off into groups of two and he had made sure the little comet was with him, as they inched closer to the prey._

_Peeking over the trunk, they watched the xifara graze peacefully, its natural dark blue and purple flecked color showing just how comfortable it was as it twisted its neck to reach the higher leaves. The comet seemed fascinated by it, staring at the beast in wonder, his mouth open, barely daring to breathe. Not a lot of xifaras in Dax’se, it seemed._

_Mon-El leaned in close. “Do you want to take the shot?” he whispered. The comet’s head whipped around in surprise._

“ _Me?" Kar recoiled. "I couldn’t.” The boy lowered his gaze gracefully. “My liege, surely the prize is yours.”_

_Mon-El nodded and reached for the staff next to him in the grass. He raised it over the tree trunk, slowly taking aim. The comet inched closer, their shoulders bumping together. He could feel the comet’s breath caress over his skin. When planning this trip Mon-El had decided on comfy clothes, but even as such his pants suddenly seemed way too tight. His hands closed around the staff and he looked over to the comet. Electric sparks traveled down his spine. Being face to face to the comet’s burning light eyes felt like a shot to the chest, making it hard to remember what he had been about to do._

_The comet smiled quietly and looked down, allowing Mon-El to regain his composure. He held his breath and turned back to the hunter’s prey and …_

“ _Achooo!” The boys head jerked forward in a violent sneeze._ _Mon-El flinched. The shot went tide, hitting the barbock tree behind the beast. The xifara reared, immediately shifting its color to match trees. The beams from the other hunters, having waited for him to give off the first shot, started whirring as the xifara bolted off into the woodwork. Mon-El jumped up as the other hunters gave chase, Kar right behind him._

_Except ..._

_Mon-El stopped in his tracks and turned to his companion as the realization kicked in._

“ _You did that intentionally!”_

_Kar smiled and batted his eyelashes innocently. “My prince, I'd never.”_

He broke away and circled around the comet, finally managing to trap him with his arms. His lips brushed against the back of the boy's ear. "I got you now, don't I?" he whispered. 

The comet flinched and stumbled. Both of them tumbled to the floor, with Mon-El ending up on top.

Mon-El grinned down at the comet. “Just so you know, I’m counting this as a win.”


	6. Round Three

“So this one will decide what kind of fun we’ll be having. Hope you’re up for it,” the prince quipped.

Once more, their batons clashed against each other, as they battled each other like two hoofbeasts locking horns. Rather than pulling back for another maneuver, Mon-El smiled at her, pushing against her, leveling his weight against the spot where the batons crossed, teasing her into a contest of pure strength. Kara bent backwards from the motion.

She blinked. It would be too easy, to step back, like a blade of grass, bending with the wind. It would make him stumble, he had given up on a stable center for this move. It would be so simple. Except for what it meant.

The prince grinned at her.

_"If you beat me, I'll suck your cock”_

She had been prepared for this, on some level, when she made the decision to come here as a boy. After all, she was going to a place where the main dialect alone knew 23 words for the male genital, varying on shape, size and age. Approaching her uncle with veiled hints as to her request her back then been the most shameful moment in Kara’s life.

_Kara entered the lavatory._

_Keep calm, she told herself._

_She walked past two of her comrades. Her nervous nerves wanted her to pick the spot on the far end of the room, but she figured that that would only make her seem like more of a suspicious outsider. She stood to the side of Quar and began nestling with her pants._

_The men next to her were chatting. A visibly annoyed servant separated Quar from his buddy Dev and so they talked past him, their bawdy jokes and rough laughter filling the room. Maybe that was a good thing? If they were distracted, less chance that they would take note of her._

_Having read up on Daxamite customs, she had known that that was a thing they did and that she would have to face up to eventually. Because of course, unlike civilized people, they did nothing in private._

_Her fingers found the warm, rubbery plastic. Feigning calmness and indifference she pulled it out through the fly. Soft pink, formed after a male member, it would never pass against somebody’s physical touch, but it should fool quick glances. Pressed up against her urethra it would allow her to urinate standing up. Kara fought the urge to blush. She hated wearing it, even to improve her impression of maleness. It felt uncomfortable pressing up against her private parts, like having a rubbery worm inside her pants. She removed and hid it as much as possible. If she had to, she preferred stuffing her undergarments with cloth, or, if she had reason to believe nobody would pay attention to just stick with nothing._

_Only sometimes it was necessary. Like now._

_She wanted to groan. Oh Rao’s light, only Daxamites would every think to create a facility like this with smooth black walls, as the water flowed steadily through the gully along the room’s side. How was anybody supposed to concentrate?_

_She nearly jumped when Quar turned, directing his stream at the feet of the servant. The man growled in anger and slapped Quar painfully on the shoulder._

_Oh fuck, they wouldn’t use this opportunity of all times to get in an all out brawl, would they?_

She, she couldn’t do this. She didn’t have _it_ on her, and even if she had, no way her little deception would ever pass direct contact.

Kara looked up at the prince. What would happen? What would he do to her? In the end, what was more important? Her mission? Or her pride?

Looking deeply into the prince’s eyes Kara allowed herself to fall backwards. As she fell, she noted that he seemed surprised, his eyes widening, but not displeased. Her back connected with the sandy floor and with that, it was over, it was done.

For the first time since their combat had started she truly noticed her own breathing. He extended his hand to her and pulled her up, his lips brushing close to her ear, so she would hear his words through the rowdy cheers of the other guards.

“I’ll be seeing you. Meet me in my suite when you’re ready.”

 

*** 

Mon-El pulled away slowly, his fingers wishing to linger on the comet's shoulder. However, it was time to take his leave. He nodded his goodbye to the captain. Now that he had won his comet, there was no reason to stay. He had to give Kar time to disentangle himself from his unit, get cleaned up and then make his way to the prince's chambers.  

As he walked, Mon-El's smiled deepened. He was looking forward to this, excited like an immature boy before his first visit at Lirra's temple. It would be fun, so much fun, to finally capture his flighty prey in his bed and indulge him, to peel off the layers of mystery, together with the comet's clothes. Mon-El had purged all responsibilities from his schedule until morning. They would have all night together. He was keenly aware that out of all his habits, his propensity towards having his lovers spend the night, was considered the most odd, the most out of character. But it was something he found hard to shake. Mon-El liked waking up with his arms around a warm and genial body. And he could barely imagine what would it be like to wake up and have those bewitching blue eyes be the first thing he saw. 

The vision of this consumed him, like a thrill running through his entire body. 

Maybe it would be better to fight those feelings. They spelled trouble after all. 

Their society frowned on most attachment that weren't casual or handled by the state or one's elders. Even more so since his mother had come into power and stamped her own brand of leadership on society. Sex was good, fun, non-committal. But attachment was dangerous. The queen didn't approve of any bonds that threatened to be stronger than loyalty to her. All she could see was the looming threat of rebellion and she wouldn't stand for it. And she surely wouldn't stand for it with her own son. 

This was madness. They hadn’t even fucked yet and here he was, contemplating whether Kar would make a suitable, more longterm ... attachment. A line of thought even made even more foolish because the answer was so clearly, so blatantly no. The City was poison even for the ones who had the riches, the knowledge, the family support. And this was just from the daily competition, not from what would happen if Mon-El’s mother deemed it necessary to pay attention. 

Which she would.

Rhea didn’t like things that were unexpected. And a mysterious boy emerging out of nowhere to lay claim to the prince's time and bed certainly would be just that. 

Mon-El flinched, bad memories of the past floating past like dark shadows.

_No._ He shook his head. He wouldn't allow his mother get into his head and ruin this for him.

This was a normal transaction. A cute guard had caught his fancy and Mon-El had invited him in. They would spend the night together and enjoy each other’s bodies. That would be it.

Nobody could take offense to that, not even the queen. 


	7. Anticipation

Mon-El walked briskly into his chambers. Dismissing the servants with a quick word, he pulled his shirt over his head and then stripped out of the rest of his clothes. His right shoulder still ached where the comet had got him good, so he fished for a healing spray. After all, he wanted to be ready when his guest arrived.

Lirra’s tits, he really needed to find a more practical way to get the comet’s attention.

Mon-El ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been … nervous? to meet a lover.

This was ridiculous. He barely knew the comet.

Mon-El had peeked at the comet’s file, way back, after they had met for the first time. It was so easy to talk Kar down in his mind. Just a pretty boy guard, merely passing through. Somebody he could outgrow and who could outgrow him. In truth Kar was just two years his junior and those bewitching blue eyes betrayed a fierce intelligence. His arms might be slender compared to his fellow guards, but they were well defined and surprisingly strong, trained to be nimble and steely, rather than for fashion. Everything about him evoked feelings of protectiveness, but Mon-El had seen Kar take on men much larger than himself.

 _Was this how you got through life before you came here?_   He wondered.

The way Kar moved reminded him of the scrappyness of young street gangs, but when he had touched the boy’s hands they had the same kind of new welts as the young nobles had, the hands of somebody not used to manual labor. Most people Mon-El had met from the colonies were morose, used to intense work and weather conditions, but Kar had an openness to him, his eyes seemingly forged to take in the world around him and offer its reflection, like he could see beyond the horizons.

“ _Doesn’t look very lived in.”_

That was the first thing the comet had said, the very first time he had sat foot in Mon-El’s chambers, blurting it out without thinking. Mon-El smiled to himself at the memory.

“ _Doesn’t look very lived in.”_

_Mon-El blinked. “This is not where I live, this only where I stay.”_

_The boy blushed and look down._

He had meant to make it clear that he had no intention of staying here permanently. Though he wasn’t sure his living quarters in the palace were that much different. Mon-El wasn’t really sure he truly knew what home meant. Weren't they all just passengers on this world? What was there really, except to spend the time your death with sweet intoxications? Wasn't that how all of them lived their lives? Like the soldiers prepping themselves with combat stims before running off into battle, so they would no longer care about who they slaughtered and who was slaughtering them. That was the way of Daxam after all, any moment worth living was worth amplifying. 

And right now, nothing amplified Mon-El's senses and his dreams more than this one, certain boy with eyes like foreign skies. 

Stepping into the shower, he wondered what exactly the comet liked. Normally Mon-El was pretty good in getting his lovers to articulate exactly what they desired about him, but the comet? Despite the liveliness of his expressions, he didn’t really say much, leaving Mon-El guessing. He had seen the way the comet’s pupils widened when Mon-El teased him, so often accompanied by those maddening rosy cheeks. So, he had a guess, what it might be. But did he really know? What would it take for the comet to admit it? Or would he resist it, make Mon-El work for it, stubborn, maddening and mysterious, just like he'd always been so far? 

Then again, the comet had let himself fall. He could have drawn the fight out longer, but he hadn’t. Was that a sign of what the comet preferred or was he just humoring his prince? Would he melt in Mon-El's arms or fight to get the upper hand? 

 _Grife_ , Mon-El was ready to jump out of his skin in anticipation, he had a feeling he would gladly give or take anything the comet wanted, just to finally explode the maddening tension between them. Anything as long as he got to see what the comet looked like when completely open and overwhelmed with need. _Fuck_.

He had to calm down. Mon-El contemplated laying hand on himself, to take the edge off. There really wasn’t enough time to summon a “friend” and he didn’t like the thought of Kar walking in on them. Kar might presume a threesome and really Mon-El didn’t feel like sharing today.

He closed his eyes and recited Lirra’s mantra to calm the blood. _Focus. Wait for your lover_. _Feel the water pelting down on your skin._

His mind pulled out the memory of how the boy’s eyes trailed him when he walked along the ramparts, how the boy watched him with slightly parted lips. Mon-El smiled and turned around, feeling the cool, smooth tiles against his back. He remembered what those lips had felt like against his own. How the comet's breath sounded, when they fought. 

_Yeah, this would be worth it._

***

Kara splashed water on her face, rubbing smudges of dirt from her cheeks. Some droplets ran down her throat into her collar. Her face grew hot. Too tight. Her uniform was too tight. She shifted uncomfortably inside her light body armor. What had she gotten herself into?

_Meet me in my suite when you’re ready._

Ready? How was she ever supposed to be ready? Kara wasn’t stupid. It was petty clear what he wanted. The prince hadn’t exactly made a secret out of it. He wanted to _mate_ with her.

Except, that wasn’t true.

He wanted to mate with _Kar_ , a young Daxamite guard from Dax’se.

And she … she hated him, didn’t she?

She hated everything he was, everything she stood for. After all, he _was_ Daxam.

Kara knees were weak and the halls leading to the prince’s suite seemed to drag on endlessly. Her lips were rough and dry. She licked across them surreptitiously.

So what if he was attractive, even beautiful, she told herself. It had to be easy to be beautiful as a prince, she insisted internally, with the finest clothes, the best trainers, the most esteemed scent makers and masseurs. Let him be this alluring if he had actually had to toil for it. As she walked towards his chambers, she tried imagine him, not up there as a prince, but down here, as a fellow guard.

Her heart stopped and skipped a beat, as her mind painted the vision of him as a brother in arms, a comrade, staring at her from the bunk right next to hers, his wry smile, his tantalizing eyes. Those eyes that seemed to always taunt her, dare her to do something, something that would break the rules. Asking to be invited under her covers, just an arm's length away.

Her fists clenched as she tried to shake that image. In front of her, the hallway towards his door stretched. That small door, flanked by guards, it seemed so small and like it was receding further with each step. Her thoughts were like a flock of panicked birds, darting forwards, bumping against harsh reality.

What if maybe, maybe he were one of the servants, the nameless ones she saw bringing the food, preparing their gear, cleaning the floors where they had spilled. What would he have been like then? A voiceless, shadowy entity, his eyes glancing to the side when he bowed his head as she walked past. A figure of tantalizing secrets, who would break the roles assigned to them even as a slave. Would he be colder, more abrasive as a servant, rebellious against his station in life? Or would he be charming and enchanting even as one of the lowest of the low? Or would he be innocent and sweet?

Would she have had reason, would she have had excuse to talk to him? What would he have been thinking of? What was he thinking of? She, she was sure they would have argued with him, about life, about Daxam. Maybe she would have convinced him, turned him to her side, ran away with him. Saved him, holding hands as they ran through the wet jungles, hiding out underneath leaves larger than a man, falling asleep face to face. As a servant, he would have been a victim. A victim would have been somebody she could save, for the spark in his eyes. Those eyes that seemed to be aware, maybe even doubtful of the invisible structures that held the people within them.

Or was that just a lie she was telling herself, a projection, to make herself feel better? Because deep down she knew her morals would never let her condone what he was? Only now she had to choose between her personal feelings and her mission and her mind was coming up with these crazy wishes and dreams, something, anything that would make it okay for him to kiss her.

 _Why_ , she thought, dropping her shaking hands to her sight, _by Rao’s light, why of all people did you have to be a prince?_


	8. Kiss

Kara walked past her two comrades that stood watch. Were they surprised to see her here? They hadn’t been out in the yard with the rest when her wager with Mon-El had taken place. Were the surprised to see dumb, pathetic little Kar walking up to the prince's chambers? She stepped through them into the elevator that led to the prince's suite. How fitting. A prince up there in a tower, overlooking the lot of them. With a beep the dark compartment slid open . Kara placed her weapons inside, following the protocol. Only then the doors slid shut. 

Her knees were weak and she leaned against the wall, hugging herself, unable to stop her thoughts from spinning. 

 _Her mouth._ He wanted to be in her mouth. For her to put it in her mouth and  _suck_.

Kara knew what that looked like, what it _sounded_ like. The very first day she walked into the barracks where the guards slept, there had been a man, on his knees. His dark haired head bobbed up and down as he went back and forth between two of the guards, while the men around him hollered and cheered, They … they did that a lot. Bartered on who could last longer, who could take the most, made crass jokes about who was the hardest to take and who had gotten the most _stuff_ on their face, who had seduced the most servants. All the while she pretended to be asleep, being thankful that she was considered too low in the pecking order to be offered to be on the receiving end of one those performances.

She touched her lips. So she had looked at him. _Mon-El._ She had looked at places. All the places. After all that was normal on Daxam, right? And she was supposed to be like them, act like them. So it was only normal for her to look and wonder. Wonder about the way it curved, whether it was true what the other guards said about him. Mon-El had been clothed of course, mostly clothed, at least in the important regions (except that one time when he had changed in front of her, when he took her hunting. But that had been only from behind), so she didn't _truly_ know, but what clothes. Nothing like the loose and comfortable pants that most males wore on Krypton. Here the clothes followed his form perfectly, smooth, with interesting textures. Almost if they were inviting her to touch, for her to run her hands all over him, to feel the muscles underneath. 

How exactly would _it_ fit? Would she be able to do the things that they normally did to each other? What exactly did he want from her? What exactly did it feel like? 

She closed her eyes and brought three of her fingers together, forming something resembling a beak. Kara pressed down on her tongue, probing. How deep could it go? What would it be like to open up for him? What would he taste like, and smell like? She licked across her own skin, warm, alive, and wondered. 

What would _Mon-El_ taste like? _Down there_. Exotic and impossible Mon-El. The Daxamite with eyes like stormy weather and a voice as smooth and as alluring as velvet. His lips, his skin, his …

“ _How about you take the pilot seat?”_

“ _Me?” He just smiled at her. Dev shot her a look, before making way for her. Kara slid into the seat and fastened the latchings around her chest. She was a pretty damn great pilot. Her Daxamite biography didn’t really reflect this, but back home, she had often been the test driver for her father’s top secret military crafts. Which a deep breath she grabbed the pulled the steering wheel towards her and the glider rose from the ground._

_She checked the destination coordinates. “How fast do you want to be there?”_

_The prince shrugged. “Whenever.” He grinned. “They’ll wait for me.”_

“ _Okay,” Kara murmured, mostly to herself. It should be around 300 sesats, maybe she could make it in 220. He might not care about being late this his appointment, but it was still rude. She chose a moderate speed as they left the fortress behind, flying out into the stony desert. Carefully she increased the speed._

_She glanced sideways, over to him. Mon-El was watching her intently, his gray eyes following the way her hands ran over the instruments. Kara could feel the hum of the engine, the power of the machine right below her feet. He had to feel it too. That had to mean he was okay with it, right? She pushed the speed regulator upwards, nudging it just a bit closer to the max._

_Mon-El grinned approvingly. They thundered over the arid ground and Kara found herself sending him a toothy smile. He leaned in. “I should race you sometime.”_

“ _You wouldn’t win,” she shot back only to wince. A lowly guard like her probably shouldn’t take like that. “My prince,” she added, hoping to cushion her off the cuff remark with the more respectful additive._

_Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind. His mouth twisted into a fake pout. “You wouldn’t let me win?”_

_Kara laughed, “Never!”, and he laughed with her, a surprising, pleasant sound. He was always smiling and laughing, often deep bellied with big, exaggerated gestured. Maybe she was imagining things? Because it felt like it had never sounded quite as free before. Maybe she had judged him wrongly?_

_Encouraged by his behavior, she dipped the glider close to the ground while opening the shutters, to wring even the last bit of speed from it. Kara threw the prince another glance. She raised her eyebrow coyly as she raced them towards a rock formation only swerving to avoid the deadly ridges a mere moment before they would have been consumed by a fiery crash. Mon-El' s hand tightened around his armrest and she thought she heard him hold his breath, but the smile never dropped from his lips. Behind her Dev and Markt cursed. Kara's heart beat faster. There was something about the warm, approving way the prince looked at her that felt like warm and sexy liquid running down along her spine. Something like a massage oil, or something sweet and sticky. Below them the engines roared. She needed to stay in control to keep all of them safe. Kara's hands tightened around the steering wheel, her knuckles going almost white and painful._

_The prince leaned in and pointed towards a plateau to the northeast. “Take us there.”_

_There must have been questions in her eyes, but it was not her station to ask. Quietly she changed course and throttled the engines. With a small bump, the glider set down on the rocky ground._

_Mon-El put his hand on the back of her chair._

“ _I think I saw something outside,” he said, not bothering to turn around but his message intended clearly for Dev and Makt. “You should go out and check.”_

“ _Mylord.”_

_Behind them, their heavy boots clanked along the floor, then, the hatch opened and closed again._

“ _Won’t you be late?” she asked._

“ _Maybe”, he replied, his voice surprisingly tender._

_Kara felt that she should be scared, instead, her hands relaxed, she felt calm in a way she had almost forgotten since she had landed on Daxam. “Why are we here?” she asked._

“ _Look,” he said and pointed out in front of them._

_She followed his gesture with her eyes. The landscape had a rugged, forlorn beauty to it. Places like this didn’t exist on Krypton anymore. Superior terraforming had made even the most stubborn desert bloom. Here the sun was setting over red dunes, specked with black rocks and forlorn natural pillars, bathing the sky in radiant colors. As a guard, it felt like her world was so small, she spent so much time inside or in transfer, she'd forgotten that it had been late in the day when they departed the mountain fortress and now night was falling, gifting them this desert sunset._

“ _Oh.”_

“ _Yeah,” he said, “there must be some things worth looking at, even here”_

_Her head whipped around. She, she hadn’t quite pictured him as an appreciator of nature. The expression in his eyes was serious, but the smile on his lips was gentle. The red light and a narrow shadow licked across his face. Somehow her hand had ended up on his thigh. She wasn’t sure anymore why she had put it there, only that it felt right._

“ _Don’t you want to look outside?” Kara whispered, not quite able to tear herself away from him. “The sun, the night, it’s beautiful.”_

“ _No,” he put his hand on top of hers. “I’m good.”_

_The sun sank in brilliant dark red sliding into purple. Its last rays danced across their faces and when they were gone, Mon-El leaned in and kissed her. Her grip on his leg tightened and trembling, she kissed him back._

Shaking, Kara yanked her fingers from her mouth. She brushed them against her side to clean them from saliva. Her palm itched from the memory of how warm his thigh had felt against it. Her heart was racing, erratic.What would it be like to kiss him again?

In front of her eyelids danced a vision. As a child in school, they had been taught of the custom of sexual intercourse. The teacher had explained that this was part of their curriculum, because aside from its importance on other worlds, it was practiced on Krypton too. Accepted, if desired, as a respectable tool of bonding between parents even after its original purpose of enabling procreation had been removed. She remembered giggling about it with Thara, then the central, circular holopad flickered to life, showing the shadowy representation of two bodies intertwined. The teacher walked around the apparition, reciting the positive and negative effects on health. As she explained the workings of the bloodflow, the figures lit up. Kara remembered staring at it, as the woman's shape turned bright red, from the head to the toes, some areas darker, some less, while the male figure went mostly dark, most flow concentrating on a small portion at the center. 

That. That was going to be them. Her, her and Mon-El. This was what she was going to see, going to touch, going to taste. Except it wouldn't be just be a trick of light, or a medical text book, or something that she glanced away from when it was the other guards, it would be real. It would be her. There would be more of those tantalizing, playful, frustrating kisses that agitated Kara down to her very core and always left her confused, but alive. Painfully, throbbingly alive, aware of every nerve ending in her lips, her hands.

How was she supposed to deal with it? What was she supposed to do if she hated it, and even worse, if she didn't? Kara was being drawn into an unavoidable collusion. By now, she wanted to touch him, to feel him. All her questions, all her worrying, her hopes and fears were breaking her down, she needed this, needed to find her answers. What was is going to feel like if she touched him? What was she going to feel when it happened? But how could she do this? How could she touch him, to finally sate the need of every stirred cell of hers, when she couldn't, when she could never allow him to touch her, too? 

***

Mon-El sauntered out of the bath, a plain white towel wrapped around his hips. He grinned when he realized that his companion had been pacing restlessly while waiting.

“Hi,” the youth blurted out, cheeks red and flushed, the gaze of those memorable blue eyes darting all over Mon-El’s bare chest.

“Glad you could make it.” He reached for the boy’s belt and pulled him in closer.

_Fuck._

Those eyes.

They looked up at him with such simple earnestness, it took Mon-El’s breath away. Those smooth, soft cheeks, as soft as a girl’s, those lightly parted pink lips. Enough waiting. Mon-El kissed his young guard hungrily and then pulled back, surveying the results of his action.

_Fuck._

Irises widened, cheeks flushed, fast shallow breaths breaking out from his little comet’s lips. Mon-El cupped the boy’s head, suddenly so much more keenly aware of the boy’s slender frame and how well it fit into his arms. Peppering little kisses across those reddened cheeks that were offered to him, the prince wondered if he could make them blush even darker.

He was reminded of the kaleidoscopic toy he had had as a child. Where each little shake had produced a wondrous new picture. That’s how he felt when he looked Kar’s eyes. The knowledge that he had power to make those mesmerizing blue eyes, that had haunted him from the first time he had looked into them, glaze over with desire was intoxicating. And so he kept on kissing and kissing and kissing, exploring those sweet lips and feeling the comet's heartbeat against his palm.

With barely a whisper of a sound the towel around Mon-El's hips fell to the floor. With a deep moan, he backed the boy against the counter and hoisted him up, so could kiss upward and in peace, his arms slung around the boy's midriff. It wasn't how Mon-El's seductions usually went, but somehow he couldn't shake the impression that the comet, had to, needed to be kissed like that, like an effigy made of ice being melted just by the power of his lips.  

“Comet,” he mumbled. The two spots on his shoulder blades where the comet's finger held on to steady himself burned like sharp fire. 

The body in his arm shifted, startled. “What?”

Mon-El grinned. “Comet,” he repeated, not bothering to explain himself and kissed the boy again, loving the confused look in those pretty blue eyes. He sensed the boy’s mouth relaxing and with a groan, he explored it more deeply, tasting him. Mon-El’s hips jerked forward, the feeling of his comet’s tongue no longer just moving against his, but tentatively venturing forward into Mon-El’s mouth, brushing over his teeth, went straight to his cock.

_Comet. Pretty, pretty comet._

Without turning away from his young prey, Mon-El searched with his foot, till he encountered the nearby chair and pulled it in. With a thud, he sank down on it, pulling the boy with him, down in his lap. He smiled when Kar awkwardly tried to find balance. Even now the boy was strange, his knees on Mon-El’s thighs, straddling him, but keeping away his groin instead of rubbing himself all over, like one would have expected. A hard forehead bumped against Mon-El’s shoulder, and then Kar’s head slipped lower, sweet lips fastened around his nipple, sucking greedily.

“Fuck,” Mon-El moaned unabashedly.

The little comet stopped and again looked up in confusion.

“I didn’t say stop,” Mon-El clarified, but before the boy lowered his head again, Mon-El caught his chin. Just one more sip, just one gaze into those bewitching eyes, the boy’s skin hot and slick under his fingers. His comet’s mouth beckoned him in and he ran the pad of his thumb over over it. His comet’s eyes glazed over, pupils dilated so wide, the crystal blue was reduced to a narrow rim. The boy's head tilted forward and his lips closed around Mon-El's digit, sucking it deep into his mouth, the boy's eyes squeezed shut as he pulled it in deep. Mon-El felt the comet's mouth, hot and wet all around his thumb, a daring tongue darting forward and touching, stroking, making promises of where else it could do playful things. Mon-El cock rebelled against this, feeling hard enough that it might splinter and explode. Then the comet's eyes popped open again, searing their prince with a seductive gaze, a stellar frame to the image of his mouth suckling hungrily on the thumb inside it. 

“It’s time now,” Mon-El murmured, almost entranced. “Take off your clothes,“ he tugged lightly at the boy’s collar “and get down on your knees”.

Instead of the enthusiastic response he expected, the boy pulled back and hung his head, voice breathy and unsteady.

He paused, his gaze averted, his hands clasping the air. “I’d, I’d rather not”

Mon-El stared at the boy in confusion and drew him close again, interlacing their fingers, before dotting kissing along the comet's jar, incapable of wrapping his mind around what his comet wanted.  They were playing together after all, Mon-El felt the way their bodies called for each other. His lips ever tasting, he enjoyed the comet's intake of breath, sucking in air through his glistening, well ravished lips. Mon-El drew a wet line with his kisses, up to the boy's ears. He stroked along Kar's spine to cup the boy's ass, his hands still insulted the coarseness of the guard uniform that kept them touching the comet skin to skin, the way they wanted to touch him. Kar arched his back and gasped, mouth open, head falling backwards, a spectacle enrapturing enough for the gods themselves. 

“Ask me,” Mon-El whispered dreamily.

The eyelids of his companion fluttered. “W-What?”

Mon-El kissed him once more, more hungry and demanding this time. “Ask me to release you from your promise.”


	9. Release

The world around them stood still.

Her palms, her lips, they burned from when she had touched his bare skin. Kara searched the prince’s eyes. He looked hungry, but also excited, almost hopeful. Clearly he expected her to reaffirm the conditions of their wager.

Except …

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do what he asked for. She was a fraud. A Kryptonian spy. He, he would be able to tell, that she wasn’t as skilled as would be typical of a Daxamite in her position. He would realize that she wasn’t _Kar_ and he would be upset. There were some thresholds she could not cross, even now as she had managed to find herself entangled in this situation.

Maybe..., maybe it wouldn’t be big deal. She was a nobody to him after all. It’s not like he cared about her, not like they knew and cared about each other. Maybe it would be okay if she walked away.

“Release me,” Kara whispered. “I wish to leave.”

One could have heard a pin drop. His eyes widened in surprise. She saw him struggle to regain his composure. Her heart raced.

“Out.”

She stared at him.

“Get out, now,” he grabbed her arms and pulled her out the door, towards the elevator that allowed access and exit of his suite. Kara almost stemmed herself instinctively against this dislocation, before catching herself. Oh right, that was where she wanted to go. His hands were shaking and he was positively fuming with barely contained rage.

“Bal,” he said as he pushed her towards the elevator door, his voice sharp and dripping with cold venom.

“What?” she replied confused. It was like all the air and all the heat had been sucked out of room and stolen away from her, as her body tried to understand what had just happened and what hadn’t, as her mind raced and struggled to figure out what that all this would lead to.

“Send me Bal,” he said, stepping up close to her, she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “So he can finish what you started.”

Kara blinked, but before she could say anything, he pushed her into the elevator. She opened her mouth, but was stopped by his cold, angry glare, just as the doors slid closed, separating them from each other.

What, what had just happened?

Kara leaned back against the elevator wall, her hands shaking. That had been … so much. So much… HIM. And now there wasn’t. The light whirr of the elevator was doing nothing to calm her nerves, her thoughts racing as she tried to guess what new situation, what new world would wait for her out there as soon as the doors opened.

In barely a blink of an eye, she was down on the base level again. Kara stumbled out, her head spinning. What had she done? What did it mean? Back home, she had prided herself to know everything about Daxamite society. The truth was, there were so many things she didn’t know or understand. Nobody on Krypton had bothered to write a treatise on the finer points of Daxamite interpersonal relationships. If anybody had, she would have known.

Deep down she knew she had crossed a line, broken some sort of unspoken taboo. Would she have to leave? Would there be repercussions? Would this spell the end to all her plans? What was the punishment for saying No to a prince?

***

Mon-El blinked.

How could he have been so wrong? He was never wrong like this. Except now he had been.

Renouncements didn’t happen on Daxam. Especially not to him. Aside from being a prince, he was fun, wasn’t he? He liked most of his lovers and up till now, his lovers liked him. Or so he had thought.

Renouncement. He wasn’t supposed to even think of Kar anymore. Just blot out the name, the person, the act and move on. Especially don’t wonder why. Especially never inquire why. People didn’t take renouncements lightly, nobody who ever voiced them owed any explanation. It was shameful to receive one, an affront so deep an immediate cloud of silence was laid over it.

It just didn’t happen. And if it happened, people didn’t talk about it, didn’t even think about it. It acted like an unspoken blacked out hole in a person’s history.

Mon-El still couldn’t believe it had happened to him. How could he have been so off?

He slumped down on a sofa, sinking into the cushions. He tapped his hands nervously against the side as he waited for the replacement. He’d never thought this would happen to him. And even less had he ever considered that he would react like that, that it would be this hard to fight the onslaughts of thoughts, to suppress the anger, at Kar, at the situation, at himself. He had been so sure.

_Fuck._

He had to stop. He’d always thought that renouncement weren’t a bit deal. So, some people didn’t want to fuck. So what? Excuse yourself and move on. Their loss if they didn’t want to. Move on, don’t wonder. Don’t make things awkward. Value happiness. Give space. Even the taboo nature of it had always seemed like overdoing it to him, for something he had thought should be the most normal thing in the world.

Mon-El smiled ruefully. Guess he was learning something new. Looking at himself, at how his own thoughts twisted and turned and wanted to back and examine every moment, every step, find where he had gone wrong, maybe the taboo was necessary. He closed his eyes.

 _Bal_. Mon-El had picked a name almost at random, but now he tried to bring the man’s face forth in his mind. A good looking man. Well bread and tall. Good racer. A favorite of the captain. Certainly one to provide a fine evening. Fun, energetic, much better than …

It would be much easier to recall the color of the replacement’s eyes if Mon-El’s body wasn’t still singing with the ghost of Kar’s touch, the nerves on his chest still confused by where the touch had gone, Mon-El’s lips, a spot on Mon-El’s neck burned with heat where the comet’s hand had rested.

No, the comet was gone. Dead to him. As if he didn’t exist. Renounced.

Mon-El reached for a drink, feeling the anger rise up inside him. He realized he was pissed enough he genuinely considered calling his mother, just to remind himself that there were other things worth being pissed about. He blinked again. He had never thought that he had it in him to be that much of a bad sport. There were stories, dark myths about men and women twisted and ruthless enough they wouldn’t even respect a renouncement.

Not in his wildest dreams he would ever have thought of himself as somebody who would even consider being like that.

_Where the fuck was the replacement?_

***

Her mind was reeling. Where should she go? Back to her unit? Wouldn’t they know that she was back too early? What was the right way to act, what would a Daxamite do in her situation? That was easy, a Daxamite would never find himself in a situation like that, because he wouldn’t have turned down his blindingly hot and seductive young prince.

Maybe she could have…? No, her mind emphatically blanked on that option. That was no way she could have pulled that off. But did that mean that she had ruined everything? Kara froze and closed her eyes. She had always known that her mission was a long shot, madness even in every regard, but she had had faith in herself and in her cause, trusting against all odds that Rao would protect her.

But what if…?

The young Kryptonian crossed her arms and paced anxiously, her thoughts circling and circling. Where was she supposed to go, could she even hope to continue her mission? Or should she try to make a mad dash for her hidden ship? Break off the mission? Impossible. She gnawed on her lip nervously. It didn’t even fully register with her that fast footsteps were approaching from behind, till a sharp tone pulled her out of her pondering.

“You never sent for Bal.”

Kara whirrled around. “You’re right, I didn’t,” she answered reflexively.

Mon-El stared at the young guard in front of him. “You disobeyed a direct order”, he said incredulously.

“Yes,” she replied. “I was really distraught.”

“You. Disobeyed. A direct order.”

Kara smiled innocently. Behind them, the rushed steps of the Mon-El’s private guard approached, while the prince regarded her, still unsure whether to be impressed or get upset. Kara felt like she should have been more scared, but somehow, facing him, she felt a deep, all infusing calm. Finally, the prince tore himself away.

"For somebody this honest, it's surprising you've lived that long,” Mon-El snorted.

Kara shrugged. "It's a gift."

By now, Harr’em and Lokar had reached them. The prince’s back straightened and he returned to a cold and regal manner, unhindered by the fact that he was naked except the white cloth wrapped around his hips.

“Return to you post,” he said curtly, with a light indication of his chin.

An inner part of her wanted to rage, to defy him, just out of principle, but she caught herself. With a small half-bow she turned and left. Her steps fast, she beelined for the door connecting the large imposing hallway to a side passage. As it slid close behind her she stopped.


	10. Distraction (content notice Mon-El/others)

Mon-El didn’t understand why, but he felt lighter after talking to Kar. He probably should have been outraged and angry, at the comet and at himself, for the embarrassing scene he had made. He knew he always flirted with going against the rules, but Mon-El was keenly aware that that was the kind of luxury his status allowed him. It was nothing compared to what Kar risked when doing the same.

With a sigh, he thumbed through the list on his datapad, finally settling on a name. Maybe he needed something that was quite the opposite of the comet.

The shape of a red headed woman appeared.

“Good to see you, Ysgith,” he greeted her.

“Good to see you, too.”

He smiled at her. “Say, we haven’t really had a chance to catch up since you arrived. I have a surprise opening in my schedule, care to join me for a game?”

The woman pondered, clearly rearranging her own plans in her mind.

“Won’t last all night, I promise.” Another sweet smile for her. Apparently he’d hit the right note, because she nodded, then turned to look to the back for a quick glance before turning to face him again.

“Two for one?” she asked.

“Of course, as always.”

“I’ll be seeing you.”

Mon-El shut down the call and stretched. Something different. Ysgith. He respected her. Things were always good and uncomplicated with her. They got along, with a clear idea of what they wanted from each other. Just good, solid fun, with just barely an undertone of danger, because he knew that his mother disliked the woman. But he trusted Ysgith to be smart and hold her own.

He didn’t have to wait long till a soft chime announced the arrival of the elevator. Mon-El rose to greet his guests. Smiling widely, he immediately threw his arms around his friend and kissed her hungrily, enjoying the feeling of her voluptuous body against his. “Glad you could make it,” he said teasingly.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Raina.”

The second woman nodded in reply.

Ysgith and him traded kisses again, like the old acquaintances that they were as he led her over to the bed. The large screen that covered his wall started to flash announcing a high priority call, just as he was about to brush her hair to the side to kiss her shoulders.

“I see you cleared your schedule,” Rhea said coldly, her imagine flickering to life without any input of his own.

“I know. It was so you wouldn’t call me just when I’m,” he demonstratively pulled Ysgith to his side and kissed her neck, “busy.”

The queen frowned disapprovingly. “I don’t like it when you do that.“

 _Maybe if you didn’t banish me to this forsaken rock surrounded by a sea of cocks and no fun to be found otherwise …_ “Of course mother,” he said with an exaggerated little bow before looking up. “Anything else?”

He saw the conflict play out in her scowl. A desire to discuss something, but being unwilling to do so in front of witnesses.

“I want you to meet with Talar.”

“Yes, I was informed. The master of ceremonies suggested a day trip.”

“I expect you to live up to your responsibilities.”

“Stomping around in the wasteland and huddling around a fire. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said sarcastically. She looked at him a long time, but then decided to ignore his remark. He had made it clear to everybody several times that he didn’t want to be here and she had sent him anyway. In essence, he still didn’t know why she had chosen to do this to him. The queen had taught him a long time ago to not talk to her about politics and that was one of her commands he did obey.

“I’ll be taking another trip to Slaver’s Moon. With your father.”

Mon-El winced. The way she put emphasize on the word father still always managed to make the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Also, it was unusual that both of them would go. His mother usually didn’t bother to bring the king along on business, unless she felt she needed additional emphasis during negotiations. Mon-El had the distinct feeling that maybe he didn’t want to know why she was going there and whether it was connected to his stay here.

“I hope you’ll have a smooth journey.”

“We will,” she said and cut the connection.

“Your mother distrusts me,” Ysgith noted after the image of the queen had disappeared.

“My mother distrusts everybody.”

“But she dislikes me more than most.”

“I know,” Mon-El grinned, “that’s what I like about you.”

***

Released from the prince’s presence, there were no more excuses left not to return to her unit. By now the morning exercises had to have been finished. No new orders had been dispensed to her yet, the work schedule on her communicator was still clear. She would most likely catch her captain in the armory.

Kara wondered how her unit would react to her. Until now, she had coasted by on being invisible, not now? Would she ever be able to get back to that, after having been drafted into the prince’s chambers and emerging from it less than successfully? Kara knew full well that having the prince’s favor was a much sought after price. Would her not staying make things okay? Or at least more okay?

Despite what she tried to tell herself, anxiousness bubbled up in her stomach. Her steps slowed. Reacting quickly on a feeling, Kara decided to dip into a side corridor, one she had walked along often. Instead of going straight to the armory, she gave in and decided to dip into a very different venue. One that had become somewhat familiar to her.

The temple was dark, so different from what she was used to. On Krypton, they worshiped light, the hope and wisdom it gifted them Here on Daxam, the walls were made of immaculate black stone, arching upwards, reconciling at the top. It took the shape of a giant flower, each petal a different chamber. Each chamber the home of another god.

It unsettled her, to see Rao like this. As just one of many.

The church on Krypton always gave Kara peace, they way it represented perfect symmetry and cleanliness. Here, each altar was worshiped and decorated by the faithful, each one straining to find the perfect gift for their deity. The chamber of Lirra overflowed with the smell of expensive oils, flowers spilling out and into the main chamber. People were always weaving in and out, chatting, dancing, singing, bringing their sacrifices.

This being a military station, most people flocked to worship Mordru or Lirra. Back when she had visited the Daxamite capitol as a child, the big houses of worship hadn’t been on their itinerary. She could only imagine the hustle and bustle that would be attracted in a major metropolitan center.

Kara knelt down in front of the statue of Vohc, the builder. She put her hands upon her thighs, face turned upwards towards the statue., trying to ignore the small grooves on the stone floor, where the blood of live animal sacrifices would flow.

When she made the decision to come to Daxam, that had been the part that had worried her the most. She could deal with the violence, the injustice, as long as she had one place to withdraw into and reclaim her peace. On Daxam, even worship was loud, and public, crass and violent. It wasn’t rare for couples to come and mate in front of the eyes of the Gods for good fortune, or for worshipers to beat each other bloody in front of Mordru.

That’s why she had chosen Vohc. Worship of him was rare in these parts and more solemn. Here at least she’d be able to breathe.

Her heart was elsewhere, on the other side of the temple, where Rao’s statue was. Kara longed to place her hand on her chest, like she was used to during prayer. No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t give herself away. This was just another part of her she had to conceal.

Tears stung in her eyes. She missed her family. She missed them so much she could barely breathe. Their loving faces, their encouraging touch on her shoulder.

She had lied to them. Lied to them to keep them safe and now she wasn’t sure whether she could do this without them. Her heart soared when she thought of them. Maybe, maybe she could steal away, just for a day. Her pod was hidden away safely in the feral swamps, four, perhaps five hours away on a speeder if one knew how to avoid the patrols and surveillance. To get there, maybe send them a message.

No. She couldn’t. The risk of her signal being noticed was too great.

Kara gripped her knees tighter, a fingers digging into her skin. She yearned to send her mother a message, just like this, with her heart, as a prayer. _Where are you? Can you hear me? I didn’t mean to hurt you when I left without saying goodbye._ But how could she do even that when she didn’t even know whether they were upset with her?

***

Absentmindedly Mon-El fumbled with the smooth stone pieces in front of him, finding it hard to concentrate. He had called for Ysgith to calm his nerves.

He didn’t like to call on people. Even in his position he preferred at least the illusion of spontaneity, but even he had to admit that it was strangely soothing to watch the sway of her bosom as they played cards.

It was not a taste he was in the mood for often, but as a counter balance to his still simmering anger, it probably didn’t get any better than this. Behind them, Ysgith’a companion Raina plucked away on her lute in the background. It calmed him.

"So, what brings me here, at this hour?" Ysgith said, testing the water, as she dropped a tower of green and a sun of three, trying to feint him into a flush.

"I believe it was me summoning you," Mon-El said dryly, setting up a row of moons instead.

She slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be like that.”

Mon-El signed. “You are right.” He moved the cards away.

Ysgith smiled knowingly and signaled for Raina to put away the lute and join them. The stoic brunette put the instrument down and rose. She was a very quiet woman, with dark, angry eyebrows and harsh featured that looked like they had been cut from stone. Kneeling down, she parted Ysgith’s dress, exposing her from her groin to her admittedly spectacular breasts. Large and heavy, with big, dark areolas.

“Don’t mind me,” Mon-El grinned and pulled off his shirt.

Raina looked up from between Ysgith’s legs and Mon-El nodded. He had a quiet agreement with that dark haired woman. They would fuck Ysgith together and otherwise try to stay out of each other’s way. Sometimes Mon-El liked to think that that meant that from all the men Ysgith regularly brought in, Raina disliked him least.

He scooted closer and kissed Ysgith’s shoulder. Warm, soft skin, familiar. His hand found her breast, palming it, pinching the nipple. The red headed administrator moaned deep in her throat, craning her neck to kiss him. He wanted to feed her his fingers, but then shied away. _No. Too close._ Instead Mon-El stroked his friends hair and watched her eyes as she writhed under her companions experienced touch, searching them for something he couldn’t quite name.

***

Kara slunk back into the guards’ quarters. After leaving the chapel, she had gone to the washrooms, pouring water over her face and arms, over and over again, but nothing quite took away the strange sting. After that, she’d sought out the captain. He’d made her join the servants and oversee their work as they hauled in resources on small, hovering sleds. Foods, drink and other commodities for the inhabitants of the fortress.

Now she was back, ready to slip under the covers of her small cot. Kara had chosen it carefully, even traded for it, just so she could have the one in the most remote corner of the room. It meant that she was farthest from the door, but this way, she could survey the situation more completely, with nothing in her back. Right now the sleeping quarters were mostly empty. Just a few shapes covered by blankets, an occasional limb sticking out. Just a few guards who had retired early. Or maybe had something to sleep off. Either way, no danger from their side.

Kara sighed and, sitting on the edge of her cot, pulled off her boots. She ran her head over her head, fighting the instinct to flinch, still unused to find only short stubble instead of her long blonde locks. Her hands wandered further down, over her cheeks, her throat. _Why was there still this little burn?_ Kara squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the covers over her head as it was custom here, since the lights were next to never truly turned off. Breathing deeply, she tried to still her nerves.

_What if she had told him the truth?_

It was a terrible idea her mind immediately informed her. And yet her heart still leaped at the thought. Kara had been raised to value truth. Her parents taught her to be straight forward and upfront. In a way, a deception like this was her biggest sacrifice, even more than the danger that surrounded her, the combat she had to endure and not being with her parents. It went against everything she believed to be true. That honesty was always sure to produce the most fortuitous result in the end. That there was honor in being honest even at the cost of danger.

What if she had told him only half the truth? Not where she came from, not her real name, but the reason why she couldn’t be with him?

No. There would have been questions. Why did she pass herself off as a boy? Why did she come here? Who had helped her carry out the deception?

Even if it didn’t lead to her being handed over to the interrogators and getting transferred, Kara’s breath got stuck in her throat, it would have lead to other things. No, that was ridiculous. He didn’t want her. He didn’t know her. He wanted a boy. A boy who didn’t even exist.

Besides, as much as she hated thinking about it, he was distracting her, distracting her from what was truly important. For the sake of her parents, her home, her entire world, that was something she couldn’t afford.


	11. Fallout (content notification: attempted assault)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Mind the warnings, you can skip this chapter and jump right to the aftermath)

Mon-El accompanied his guests to the elevator, even taking the trip down with them. He hugged Ysgith one last time and thanked her for her visit, grateful that she took it graciously rather than trying to persuade him into extending their time together. That calmness to her was something he appreciated. She seemed content with her life, sure of herself, that good things would come to her. He might be the prince, but he felt envy as he watched the two women walk away, their hands interlocked and easily swinging between them.

Raina had been Ysgith’s companion for how long now? 7 cycles? 8? He remembered attending their parade when he was still a teenager. Ysgith beaming and ecstatic, while Raina hovered in the background. They had settled in a comfortable arrangement with both their latches. One rarely saw one without the other and Ysgith defended the often contentious dark haired artist with the fervor of a clawmane protecting her cub. Her clever wheeling and dealings might just be the one thing that kept them alive and together.

Mon-El rubbed the back of his neck and took in a breath of the cool, clear night air. Seemed like nobody else would be warming his bed tonight. He could call somebody over for that task, but maybe it was more suitable to just call it a night, take a joyer and hope for an intense dream from the goddess.

Except …

Mon-El’s eyes narrowed. There was something off about the guards standing at the entry to his chambers. For one they had been exchanged. Before the usual time. And not on his orders. He recognized both of them. They were part of the guard corps stationed here. Of course the captain could exchange them any time.

But why now?

Furthermore, there was a tightness in their stance and in the way they gripped their staffs. Their unease appeared to increase when, rather than returning to his chambers, he stopped right in front, inspecting them. Of course he could just ask them why they had been switched in, but would he get a straight answer?

“I want to take a walk,” Mon-El said slowly, testing their reaction.

“Mylord,” they replied and bowed in unison.

Mon-El nodded and picked the path towards the battlement to look down into the courtyard. He took a few tentative steps towards the flight decks.

No reaction.

Normally the most probable solution for an extra curricular change of the guards would have been some sort of secret guard festivity that a higher ranking guard didn‘t want to miss out on. He racked his brain trying to think of what exactly the men could be hiding from him. Changing course towards the yard he listened for the steps behind him. Maybe calling up the castellan would grant a hint of what was going on? What if it was a private matter between the guards? They wouldn't be that tense if it was just a secret party, out in the desert away from their posts. They had to know he didn't care about that. Below him, the yard lay quiet and abandoned, only a few servants milling around, playing dice on top of a barrel. 

That still wasn't it. 

A chill went down his spine. Should he trust his instincts on this? If this was meant to be an attack, they could have jumped him at any time. What else? A theft? Something else they thought he might disapprove of? That they didn't want him to know?

***

It was dark.

And quiet.

Kara tensed. It was never quiet or dark in the guards sleeping quarters. No matter the time of night, no matter the exhaustions of the days, there always were at least some lights. The Daxamites did not separate between sleeping and recreational areas. And there were always people, talking, gambling, drinking, mating. They seemed to take pride in never sleeping.

The little hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Something was different and nobody had told her.

_Did they know?_

The thought sparked through Kara's mind, freezing her in place. Her staff was in weapon storage. Her training staff was as useful as any stick and besides she had left it in the hallway with all of the others. She inched her fingers over the mattress. Her combat knife was stashed away in her kite bag, at the foot of her cot. If she was careful, maybe she could reach it without making too much noise. 

Emerging from the darkness, a hand closed around her foot. Something hard but covered hit her in the face. Kara kicked outwards instinctively. Her heel connected with a nasal bone. Hands. Hands were all over her, grabbing her limbs and holding her down. A hand over her mouth, trying to stuff something between her lips to keep her from calling out.

Kara kicked again, something wet, blood?, splattered over her calve. Somebody cursed and punched her in the stomach. Her body armor caught the impact, but it still took the air out of her. Other than heavy breathing and the quiet rustling of their bodies as she thrashed against them and they tried to hold her down, there were barely any noises. Not loud and boisterous like they usually were, but working with quiet and deadly efficiency. She remembered passing Makt as she came in, the way he had simply nodded at her, not bothering to exit his conversation to ask how things had went. Kara knew what they were doing. And they were all in on it. All of them.

She spit out the cloth in her mouth, but she was too tense to scream, too focused on grappling against all the hands holding her down. Two hands wrapped around her throat and suddenly her captain’s face loomed over her. “Take your punishment like a man, you insolent little shit,” he hissed and spit at her. Then he punched her, knocking her head to he side. Kara’s ears were ringing.

Deep down, she had known that this could happen. She had come prepared, mentally. She was the one who went to Daxam. She knew the risks, knew how brutal and callous they were, against others and each other. That’s why she had never dreamed of telling her parents the truth. They would have done everything to stop her. Worst of all, they would have been right.

Kara twisted, pushed and kicked in total silence. Before now, she couldn’t have been sure how she would react. Would she cry and scream? Plead and try to negotiate, surrendering her identity in the hope that her status as a member of the house of El would protect her from the most dire repercussions? Or go still and quiet, like a grazer in front of a hunter?

No, she found out. She stayed quiet because she needed all her energy to struggle, every muscle in her body straining to push against the forces acting upon her. Fighting the fight, whether there was any hope or not.

***

It wasn’t normal for him, for the prince, to visit the guards’ sleeping facilities. Up where he lived and down here, those were two different worlds. He didn't mind slumming it with the people below, but in situations like this, he tended to avoid it. It made him feel like he was rubbing it in their face. Besides, wasn't the point of sending noble songs to this place to teach them what it was like? So up to now, he had avoided coming here. Yet, Mon-El couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he would find the truth in this place.

And just like he had suspected, the footsteps behind him hesitated as he approached.

One of the guards grabbed his arm. “My prince, do you want to ...” Mon-El shrugged out of the man’s grip and kept on walking. Following the narrow, empty corridor, almost magically drawn towards the door that lead to the darkened guards’ quarters. A long row of bunk beds was barely visible in the dark. In the back of the room, low grunts and dull impacts were heard as the men huddled around a cot at the far end.

_Turn around._

_Walk._

_Don’t get involved. It’s none of your business._

_Whatever they are doing, they don’t want any witnesses, otherwise there would be light._

The prince froze internally, but his feet still carried him towards where the pack had surrounded its prey. He approached them from behind, grabbing one of the men by his shoulder and pulled him away, forcing an opening in the flock of bodies.

Mon-El locked eyes with the comet.

_Kar._

_Of course it was Kar._

The guards he had pulled away cursed and turned towards him angrily. Mon-El’s knuckles connected with his face. Instantly a sharp pain traveled up his arm. The man raised his fist in response, probably thinking somebody wanted to encroach on his frontline spot, but then froze as he recognized his opponent. Mon-El grabbed a hold of Kar’s ankle and yanked, pulling the boy down from his cot and down to the floor.

Wordlessly, Mon-El stared wide-eyed at his men. He grabbed the comet under the shoulder and pulled him up.

_Don’t do it._

_It’s not worth it._

_It’s not your place._

_Run._

There had to be an order, something he could say to them, but he was at a loss of words. Instead he backed away pulling Kar with him. One of the men stepped forward without thinking grabbing futilely in the air, for the prize, the object of their punishment, that was being taken away from them. One look from his prince sent him back.

“My Lord!” the captain stepped up, emerging from the group. “We just...” Mon-El stared at him, dragging Kar towards the door in silence. They boy stumbled, unsteady, tripping over his feet. Wordlessly Mon-El lifted the boy up into his arms.


	12. Aftermath

_Walk._

_Fast._

_Don’t turn around._

He wasn’t used to carrying somebody like this. The comet’s body bobbed with each step, his arms reluctantly tightening around Mon-El’s neck.

“My lord” one of the guards that had stood at his door tried to approach him.

“Shut up,” Mon-El barked and the man recoiled. Reluctantly they fell back into lockstep behind him, the black carpets swallowing their footsteps as they hurried through the halls

Finally they reached the entrance to his suite. Mon-El turned around and backed into the elevator. Only his two door guards had dared to follow him, anxiously at a distance. Now they stopped. The elevator doors hummed shut. The comet began to twist, indicating that he wanted to be let down. Instead Mon-El gripped him tighter and the movements stopped.

The elevator doors opened again and Mon-El stepped through, into the safety of his suite.

Walking over to the bedroom, he dropped the comet down unceremoniously, on the carpet next to his bed."Stay here," he ordered and threw the boy one of his pillows.

_Fuck._

_What have you done._

Mon-El stared down at his datapad. His instincts told him to put the suite in lockdown, seal it so nobody could reach them up here, protect him and the comet. For as long as he could remember he knew that this was the fear of any royal, the one thing he knew even his mother feared, to one day be torn apart when their own most trusted servants turned on them. That’s why emergency protocols like this were in place.

_Fuck._

A high alert like that would be noted immediately. There would be questions. His hands trembling with rage he only raised the privacy level. Nobody could come up without explicit permission.

_Fuck._

Why did he get involved? Mon-El turned around and stared at Kar. It wasn’t his place to interfere when the guard’s desire to punish one of their own. He had overstepped. He stared at the blooming dark bruise over the boy’s cheekbone.

He knew exactly why the men had done it.

“Do you want something for that?” he asked. The comet touched the bruise and then nodded lightly. Mon-El turned around and rummaged through the first aid supplies. He indicated for the comet to come up to the bed and the boy followed. Reflexively he wanted to reach for the boy’s chin, to hold him in place, but changed his mind. The comet already looked so tense and fragile.

Mon-El ran the medprobe over the boy’s cheek. “I want you to know that I didn’t ask for this.” The comet stayed quiet. “What happened between you and me was private, they had no right to get involved. It’s none of their concern. I don’t condone it. I don’t need anybody to defend my honor.”

The comet nodded.

Mon-El surveyed his work. It would have to do. “There, all done.” He jerked his head and the comet immediately disappeared again behind the side of the bed.

***

Kara lay frozen, the floor hard below her back.

She barely allowed herself to breathe, quiet, shallow, her nerves still buzzing, the adrenaline still racing through her body from what had happened, cheek still throbbing where it had been healed. Her fingers found the rim of the bed, she slid them along, feeling the smooth material. Closing her eyes she collected her composure and with a sudden jerk pulled herself up and peered over the mattress.

There he lay, stretched out, a datapad in his hand, His fingers drumming nervously against the encasing. He looked up quickly upon hearing her sit up, switching the pad off and putting it away with an automatic, ingrained gesture.

Their eyes met.

"I— I wish to come inside", she said, her voice sounding lost and frail, even to her own ears, "Your bed, I mean.”

The prince seemed taken aback by the request, clearing his throat and quickly looking away. But then his hands moved, inviting her with a small gesture.

The mattress gave in a little under Kara's weight. The coverings were delicate and soft. The bed's scent filled her nose, a lot sweeter and more muted than she had expected. Her gaze clung to his now so familiar eyes. Familiar. The thing she had been missing for so long.

Something in her snapped and she slung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. His strength, his warmth, his smell. Kara felt his body underneath her, the tightening of muscle. Mon-El hesitated, but then lightly put his arm around her, just two fingers touching her shoulder, drawing soothing circles, while his other hand grabbed hers around the wrist, her hand that all bunched up in his shirt, right above his chest.

"You okay?" he asked, surprisingly softly.

"Better now," she murmured and closed her eyes.

*

Mon-El awoke with the little comet still wrapped around him, gangly limbs curled around him, like a vine clinging to a tree. He had to have moved, because immediately the comet’s arms tightened around Mon-El as he buried his nose more deeply into Mon-El’s chest, sleeping with his brow furrowed and his muscles tense.

Mon-El didn’t really know how to deal with this. He woke up with a lover in his bed most days. It was one of those things he didn’t dare to analyze too much, but it just felt good, to wake up with his arms around somebody. Only that the comet wasn’t his lover. And rather than offering his body for his prince to hold and cling to in the night, he was draped over Mon-El’s chest, weighing him down and keeping him from getting up, claiming this space like it was the most normal thing in the world. Mon-El considered coughing politely to wake his guest, but seeing the boy’s big frown, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Apparently, he hadn't been quiet enough, for the body in his arms started to stir. Long eyelashes fluttered. Slowly the comet’s blue eyes opened and looked around in dreamy confusion. It was as breathtaking as Mon-El had always thought it would be. The comet hesitated, his hand slid over Mon-El’s chest, feeling the fabric of his clothes before slowly pulling back, the confused look never completely fading from his face. Mon-El followed. He resisted the urge to take Kar’s hand.

_Not my place._

The brilliant blue eyes stayed focused, as the comet rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly at a loss at what to do next. “I, I better get back to my unit,” the boy mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Yeah,” Mon-El acknowledged.

 _Take it back,_ his insides screamed. _Just take it back and stay here. Fuck the guards. Fuck the unit._

“Do you want to…?” he started.

“No,” the comet shot back, maybe a bit too quickly, chin pulled upward in determination, fists balled. “They surprised me, that’s all. They won’t get me again. I’ll get them, I’ll make them pay.”

He jumped up, scuttling out of bed, and Mon-El followed. The comet tugged on his sleeves, looking down uncomfortably. “Thank you, for everything.”

“No problem. Safe journey.”

The boy paused, once more balling his fists. “Safe journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I dillydallied so long to post this. I hope you have some sympathy for me, I went back and forth a lot on whether I should move this part or get rid of it altogether. I have a tumblr where I try to formulate my thoughts in case you are interested in reading my fretting https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/my-writing%3A-a-boy-and-his-comet


	13. Payback

Kara’s back stiffened as she stepped out of Mon-El’s elevator and refused to look at who exactly was keeping watch. The thick black carpets swallowed Kara’s footsteps as she walked along the hall. She walked briskly, straight forward, as if she knew where she was heading, when in reality her thoughts were strewn and chaotic.

What would a Daxamite do? Should she barge in, break the nose of the nearest guard to assert her dominance? Surely they would fight back and she had no allies. Or could she hope to slip in quietly and reclaim her status as a nobody? Maybe they would be too embarrassed over their failed attempt to press the issue and ignore what had happened to save face? What did they think of what had happened? Did they think that she and the prince had made up? Would they resent her even more now?

Kara stopped for a brief moment and closed her eyes. Deep breath. _A spot, bathed in light._ That’s what she had dreamed about. In her dream she had slept curled up in a circle of warm light, surrounded by a sea of darkness, where cruel monsters tried to lap at her feet. But they couldn’t get to her. Because it was warm and light, the same warmth that filled her when she thought of home, of her parents. It protected her. They couldn’t get her.

An unusually sardonic smile danced over her features. Wasn’t that what her life was like? All the danger and cruelty of Daxam, trying to swallow her? But they wouldn’t get her. She balled her fists. No matter what they did, they could never get her soul. She would make sure of that.

After all, she was a daughter of the house of El. She carried inside herself all the teachings and virtues of Krypton. Even if she had to occasionally compromise for the sake of the environment she found herself in.

First things fist, she had to get her hands on a knife.

***

Mon-El ran his hand through his hair. He’d have to lower the security settings of his suite. After that, his staff would quickly sweep in. Hygiene. Morning training. Morning report. His life would go on, just like it had before.

_Stay out of it. Keep your distance._

He knew that he had no claim to get involved into his young guard’s life. Nor was it his place to get involved into the inner workings of the guard. And yet, it was hard not to feel responsible. After the comet had spent the night in his quarters, most would probably assume that any conflicts between the two of them had been cleared up. Would that be enough to get Kar out of having a target painted on him? Or would the resentment still simmer, just because he had chosen Kar first, over other, more higher ranking peers?

Mon-El wanted to think that his actions had shown the men that he was not interested in them taking their anger out on the comet. Deep down he knew, the easiest way to dissolve the tension would be to do the obvious: Spread his favor around. Flatter them. Make them feel pampered and exalted by the royal attention. Throw a party. Spread good cheer. Get them to relax.

Only there was one problem. Just thinking about it made him nauseous. Why? Normally it was just part of the game, to flirt and play along. He’d already counted on indulging some of the guards, as a favor to their families or just because he wanted to. Now anger bubbled up inside of him when he thought about how they had stabbed one of their own in the back out of base jealousy.

What was it to them that he found Kar intriguing? He didn’t owe them anything. Part of him wanted to let them believe longer that he had chosen the little commoner runt they looked down upon so much as his lover, just to rub it in their faces. Just to show them that he could.

Mon-El’s shoulders slumped. He sighed. No. That wasn’t reasonable. Being his lover, or even just thought of being the prince’s favored lover would just paint a bigger target on the comet’s back. He had seen plenty of times that those kind of rivalries in blood and violence. And that was before … other people choose to get involved.

_The door chimed, lighting up in a subtle blue to signify somebody of reasonably high enough security clearance. Bent over his datapad, pretending to study his lessons, he didn’t pay attention as his caretaker rose and walked to see who it was who demanded entry. It couldn’t be anything interesting, he wasn’t allowed to have visitors until the caretaker deemed that his homework was done. Annoyed he let his feet dangle. Normally he didn’t mind reading up on history, but he hated it when he had to._

_“What are you doing here?” Sia asked. She was a good caretaker, a patient, quiet woman with a warm voice._

_“I need to speak to you,” a hushed voice replied._

_Mon-El swiveled around in his chair, just in time to see a tall statuesque woman, clad into an expensive, finely woven overcoat. Her face wasn’t familiar. Before he could react, she drew a thin, see-through blade from her sleeve and without missing a beat ran it through the temple of Sia Dev-Aska. The caretaker’s body crumpled to the floor, her eyes glassy, mouth opened in surprise, just as Mon-El rose. The intruder turned towards him, her cloak gaped open, uncovering a wet red-brown stain on the front her skirt from her groin to her feet._

_“She took mine, so I’ll take hers,” she screamed, revealing a black spotted tongue, and lunged at him._

Mon-El’s door opened, to unleash Banat and a flock of cleaners. The prince shook away the fleeting memories, turning around Mon-El greeted the arrivals with a winning smile. Before his man servant could comment on how Mon-El hadn’t changed his clothes since last evening Mon-El grabbed his shoulders, drawing him in like a special confidante.

“Bring me Makt Intar.”

***

Her pulse was beating rapidly and her steps quickened.

“You!” she yelled, taking fast steps towards Dev. The man whirled around in surprise, interrupting his conversation with the captain. He had sandy brown hair and curled up lip. Kara had never really had a problem with him, he ignored her and she ignored him, but she also knew that he and the captain were close, had been close even before arriving here. They were often seen chatting and drinking, sometimes sleeping together. She didn’t remember him from amongst the quiet crowd that had come after her, but she didn’t doubt that he must have been there too.

Coming to a full stop in front of him, Kara pushed him, making the tall man stumble backwards. She followed up and pushed him again. Dev turned and threw a questioning look to his friend. The captain shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Taking this as encouragement, Dev puffed up his chest and pushed back.

Kara grinned. With a swift motion she pulled her combat knife from her boot. Flipping it around, she grabbed the hilt, the blade pointing backwards and raised her hand, making her intentions known. Dev smirked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” she replied.

Once more he looked around his peers questioningly. He must have gotten the encouragement he was looking for, because he turned to her and nodded. They were beginning to draw a crowd of onlookers. Knife battles weren’t the norm, even here. One of the man handed Dev a blade. Her opponent looked down on his and drew it through the air, testing its grip. He looked down on how it glinted in the sun. “You won’t be as popular anymore, once I take this to your face,” he boasted.

Kara cleared her throat and spit on the ground. “We both know he wouldn’t fuck you, even if his cock was about to fall off,” she shot back, referencing a popular Daxamite fairy tale. An annoyed rumble went through the audience. Dev rolled his shoulders to relax them and then assumed the starting combat stance.

He wasn’t one of the best fighters, Kara had noticed. She felt a sudden stab of pity for him. After all, she had selected him only for his friendship with the captain. He was as high in the social ranking as she dared to go. Like during every fight, adrenaline raced through her veins and she internally offered her soul to Rao. She was ready to die, each and every time.

Her opponent swiped his knife at her, his stance somewhat unsure. She backed away quickly and they began to circle each other. Kara didn’t want a long fight. She knew she couldn’t match him when it came to raw strength against strength, so she kept at a distance, waiting for an opening. One that was sure to come from an opponent not sure in his weapon. Once he lunged at her, she managed to dip under his arm right into his defenses. Without making a sound, she smashed the hilt of her blade into his face. Dev screamed and stumbled backwards. He tripped over his feet and landed down on the ground. His hand shot up to touch his broken cheek as he stared at her.

Kara looked down at him. Once more, pity swept over her as she saw the fear in his eyes. But she knew, Daxam wasn’t a fair place. If she were to kill him, she’d be thrown in jail, sentenced, probably to lose either her life or her freedom. If she was killed, her body would be discarded with the rubble without a second glance as somebody else would be pulled from the long waiting list of hopefuls would to take her place. Kara was pretty sure that Dev hadn’t been out to kill her. The thought likely had never even entered his mind. Daxam’s rich boys liked to play, even to play rough, leave bruises, draw some blood. But it was still play to them.

Only today, they had to learn a lesson. Without a word, Kara brought her foot down on the side of his knee. Even though she knew what would happen, she still couldn’t help but wince at the dirty sounding _crack_. The noise of splintering bones was followed by a blood curdling scream. Dev, on the ground, his leg bent at on odd angle, his face white as a curtain, stared at her in shock. He gasped and tried to scramble, trying to drag himself away from her with his hands in the sand, only to stop immediately as he realized that any movement of his limbs would just send blinding pain right to his nerves. His long, youthful lashes fluttered. He looked like his body was trying to decide between throwing up from the pain or just passing out straight away.

“Enough!” the captain barked, stepping closer.

Somebody grabbed her shoulder, but jumped back as Kara blindly swiped against the space behind her. She stumbled and ended up on the ground. A hard, sweeping look from her made sure everybody kept their distance. rose slowly. Yeah, she was going to stop, but it was going to happen on her terms. Below in the sand at her feet the young guard still whimpered. She stood back as the captain rushed in to his friend’s side, falling to his knees, grabbing Dev’s head with one hand while waving for help with the other.

Then, he looked up and stared at her in confusion, not understanding the brutality of her actions. Kara met his gaze coldly as she got up and wiped a splatter of blood from her cheek. He didn’t get it, she realized. He was taken aback. She was pretty sure she had gotten at least one message across with her actions. He would think twice now before moving against her again. This wasn’t just idle play to her.

Kara knew that she wasn’t behaving the way a Daxamite would. She had studied their myths, read their hymns. A Daxamite wouldn’t have fought back. A Daxamite was expected to laugh at his enemies, to taunt them, mock their virility. To ask for more wine so he could take on even more. Would rather die than admit to injury. That was the world they lived it, this is what they expected.

Well, whether they liked it or not, she wouldn’t play that game.

Medics rushed in to the young noble’s side as he sobbed. He would be taken care off. His eyes rolled back and he slumped as a painkiller was injected in his arm.

Kara turned and walked away. The man around her backed away, freeing her path.

***

Makt Intar put a lot of emphasis on his education, that much Mon-El could tell. Undoubtedly somebody who hoped to achieve great things. Many nobles didn’t bother with perfect marks, some even seemed to consider it a badge of pride to slide through with as little effort as possible. After all, wasn’t that too testament to the influence of their families if they could do what they wanted? Not so Intar. He liked to show off his smarts.

From what Mon-El remembered, Intar even tried to design his family’s parties to be more sophisticated than was usual, to add a wider selection of poets, musicians, fire artists. Thinking of it, it was unusual that he had bothered to come to this place. What had been his intention? His hope? Was it to catch the prince’s eye and endear himself with good advice, finding opportunity to show of his brilliance? He must have seen something in Kar to spend time with him. Had he even seen what Mon-El saw? A bitter taste filled Mon-El’s mouth as his mind’s eye briefly pictured the two young guards maybe even sharing a bed together.

No matter. His annoyance over the comet’s renouncement didn’t change that Makt Intar was the right man for the job Mon-El had in mind.

“I heard the gods have been smiling upon your family,” he said and handed the man a cup of wine. “Your uncle is competing for another mining license.” Mon-El grinned. “So unfortunate what happened to Awar.”

Intar’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, very unfortunate.”

Mon-El stepped closer. He saw thoughts working away behind the young noble’s eyes. Intar had to know that so far the prince hadn’t shown any interest in him. Mon-El vaguely remembered sleeping with Makt’s sister several years ago, but other than that, even though they ran in the same circles, it had been easy to avoid the man for anything more in depth. He neither hit nor didn’t hit Mon-El’s tastes and the latest movement’s of the Intar family hadn’t found the queen’s favor. Not enough to be completely out of favor, but just enough to annoy her.

So chances are Intar knew exactly why he’d been called, but it wouldn’t be very natural of a young noble to not at least entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe the prince’s interest in him was genuine. Or that if it didn’t exist yet, surely there were ways to attain it, if one was only given the chance. Was that what Makt Intar thought? That he was playing the long game? That one day the time would come where the royal house needed a smart adviser who knew how to hold in tongue?

Mon-El toasted to the other man and they both downed their drinks, the wine light, yet sickly sweet. “How do you like it here?” Mon-El asked. It was a test of sorts. Or at least Intar would think of it that one. Carefully weighing the prince’s preference for witty and somewhat rebellious lovers against the desire not to say anything controversial.

_Doesn’t look very lived in._

Unsurprisingly, Intar went with the more boring option. “It’s an honor to support you, my liege.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Mon-El girinned and put his hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing it subtly. “A smart man like you can yield a lot of influence,” he started. “I’ll be honest, I worry that Captain Gad has his hands full with the men.”

Mon-El could see the panic flare up in Makt’s eyes for a moment. Gad’s family was influential and had close ties with several other members of the corps. If Gad fell into sudden disgrace and somebody else took his place, there would be unpleasant repercussions. Sometimes the best way to get rid of somebody was to give him a promotion that many people thought they didn’t deserve, a strategy that Mon-El’s mother had employed many times.

“I want you to help him.” Mon-El smiled brightly. “Make sure he doesn’t make any rash mistakes.”

Intar nodded, signaling his understanding. “Good!” Mon-El said cheerfully and for emphasis, kissed the young noble on the lips. “Give my regards to you sister.” The man bowed and Mon-El walked him out to the elevator, exchanging meaningless chit-chat. “I’m counting on you to keep things calm,” he said as the doors closed, barely catching the acknowledgment.

The prince paused for a moment and frowned in the wake of his guest’s departure. He was confident that Intar was smart enough not to put personal vanity ahead of his self interest and probably cunning enough to suggest something useful. It would be better to stay out of it and let the inner workings of the guards take care of itself.

Mon-El rubbed his neck. Kar was capable, crafty, right. Maybe Kar would be smart. A troubled expression crossed the prince’s face. Maybe the comet would go and lie with the captain for the sake of peace. Normally, Gad would probably be true proud to indulge somebody of such low status, but even he had to realize that it would be better for morale to get come calm back into the corps. Especially if he had Intar there to give him a nudge in the right direction.

Wasn’t that usually how those things worked out? Then why did the thought of that make him feel like a man who had just stepped off a ledge, hanging in the air, about to be grabbed by gravity? No matter. It was none of his business.

Perhaps one day, in the far future, this would make a great drunk story, of the time he had collected his first renouncement. Today was not that day. Mon-El smiled wryly. Maybe he should raise a glass to the comet, or something more potent even. Toast to Kar’s metaphorical exit from his life. Maybe that would make it easier to return to his true self. After all, that was him, the lighthearted, always smiling, always flirting playboy prince. He wasn’t going to let a silly rejection take that away from him.

Mon-El sighed. Whenever he closed his eyes, he was back in that bed, with the comet draped across his chest. The way the boy’s long eyelashes fluttered, the soft intake of breath and then, the way those eyelids opened slowly, still groggy from sleep. It was like a door opening up a view to another world, for that heartbeat when the boy with eyes like stars looked at him. Gods’ favor, just how much in spirits would it take to wipe the memory of that moment from his mind?

***

Kara went back to the storehouse job, just pretending she had orders to do so. Nobody questioned her. At one point she thought she saw somebody call something in, but they returned after a short while and didn’t say a thing. So she stayed, overseeing long lists, putting on a friendly face for the servants. After all, it wasn’t their fault.

She slunk back only for the role call, coming in last to stand at the far end of the line, her eyes automatically scanning the ramparts. This evening, the prince didn’t come. Whatever. It wasn’t like she was waiting for him. Going to him, seeking proximity to him, that had been only a moment of weakness. It wasn’t real. She was alone on her mission. He wasn’t her ally, he was her enemy.

Kara left the yard without talking to anybody, retiring to the quarters immediately. Kara forced herself to walk swiftly, not allowing her body any moment of pause as she stepped over the threshold. The guards’ quarters were nearly empty. It seemed like an intentional choice on their part. Well, that was just fine with her. She stashed her knife underneath her pillow and slipped under the covers. They wouldn’t get to her again and she wouldn’t let them cost her her sleep. She needed it. She needed her strength to survive in this place.

 _Curse on them, curse on all of them,_ Kara thought and closed her eyes.

Her light, her little circle of light, she missed it. The pensive look on the prince’s face as he looked her with stormy eyes. His smile playing on his lips as looked at his dragon pup. His carefree laughter as the thundered across the desert. Kara smiled to herself. Normally, when she slept in the guards’ quarters, she tried to sleep flat as a board. It just seemed like the more soldierly thing to do. This night, she was just beyond caring and so she curled up into herself under the covers, trying to bring back the memory of sleeping in that small protective circle.

She fell asleep, with his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife underneath her headrest.


	14. Journey

“She can’t be serious,” Mon-El said. Lirra’s tits, the comet sure had a knack for attracting trouble. He flipped once more through the video message accompanying the now officially logged complaint. Nalana Vex was always an imposing appearance, her trademark clawlike blood red nails angrily drumming the surface of the table she was sitting at as she delivered her message, her noble face twisted into a grimace of indignant anger. Mon-El swiveled around to face the council of advisers. “What does she think this is, a waterpark?”

Siddar leaned forward. “Maybe we could ...”

“No,” Mon-El said. “Let her son crawl back to the City, if he can’t take life out here.”

Fucking Intar. It had been his job to keep things quiet. Nalana was a proud woman, accustomed to throwing her weight around and being heard. And contrary to most other female nobles, she actually got along decently with the queen. To the highborn families, offspring was an investment, a strategic sink for resources. They didn’t like it when it looked like an investment wasn’t paying off. And to place a child to spend time close to the prince was one such investment. From their point of view, their property had been damaged, they were out for blood. And compensation.

Mon-El’s gaze swept along the circle of advisers. They didn’t like this solution, but would it be enough that they would fight him on this?

“I’ll deal with this later,” he said and got up abruptly, forcing the council to rise with him.

Siddar bowed first. “My prince, the caravan is waiting.”

“Good, let’s not keep Talar waiting.”

A servant bowed and offered him a whip, but Mon-El shook his head. Talar had provided the dentras and strictly speaking, it was always a risk to handle an unfamiliar animal, but dentras, while large and lumbering were good natured beasts. Besides, Talar had every reason to try to impress. Mon-El mentally recited the briefing he had received on the situation as he made his way to the courtyard. Talar was a business man, an arms dealer. He came with a simple proposal: he wanted mining licenses, a way for him to provide his own supply.

“Coincidentally” one of those licenses had recently become available. And it was up to Talar to explain to the crown why exactly he should be trusted to be given a larger share of power. Especially in a world where the queen didn’t like power accumulating anywhere expect in her own hands. Was that why he had sought out to butter up Mon-El first? Was that his idea of a long running bet? But why had Rhea agreed to it?

No matter.

In the yard the preparations for the trip were already in full swing, soldiers and servants and pack animals mixing. Despite his best efforts, Mon-El’s eyes immediately made out the comet within the busy crowd. The prince frowned. Down below, Kar was struggling with a dentra beast. Mon-El had a feeling that Kar’s guardmates had intentionally stuck the youth with a particularly unruly one. Fucking children.

He strode over to the mount that had been set up for him. It was a rare pure black specimen, its normally scraggy long fur having been combed to perfection. Mon-El rubbed its massive, wide head, before grabbing the reins and swinging on top.

“Comet!” he called out. Kar whipped around, looking at him with surprised blue eyes. “You’re with me. The winds are cold and I need somebody to warm my back.” Mon-El extended his hand. One quick pull, the youth was behind him, thighs brushing up against Mon-El’s ass. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He clicked his tongue, gently steering his dentra into position right behind the front guard, waiting for the event’s host to join them. The animal’s swaying movement had scooted Kar closer and their bodies were pressed flush against each other. Mon-El felt the body behind him sigh and relent. He smiled to himself when a warm cheek pressed up against his back and small, lithe hands struggled to find an innocuous spot to hold on, trying to decide between his thighs, his chest and his belt. Somehow his day was perking up already. Mon-El couldn't quite suppress a grin. He managed to turn it into a polite nod as Talar rode up to them on his white and brown striped mount.

Reaching behind, Mon-El calmingly squeezed his companion’s knee while he bent to the side to lend his ear to the powerful arms merchant who had traveled the long way to set up this trip. His smile deepened. He began to regret the gloves he was wearing against the cold.

***

_Oh, Rao._

Just what she needed. He pulled her up to his steed like it was nothing. With the beasts indented back, no chance to avoid sliding against him offered itself. Worst of all, Kara didn't know what to do with her hands. She, she had to hold on to him, right? The dentra's gently swaying gait didn't allow for anything else. Suddenly the appeal of the intoxicants her hosts liked to douse themselves in became a lot clearer. As the beast walked, she could feel each single step.

Why did they have to do it like this anyway? After all, they had gliders, too. On Krypton they treated their fauna respectfully. The way Daxamites used their fellow creatures as tools for transport, sport and yes, even food, it was just one more things she had to get over. And now she was sitting on one, this living, feeling being, with warm intelligent eyes, that knew pain just like them. There weren’t many dentras in the mountain fortress. Most of them had been brought in for his special event and now they walked as a big throng instead of running free.

And on top of that there was the prince. There was just so much of ... him. His arms, his thighs, his belt, his back. Strong. Towering. Kara felt like a weightless wisp behind him. She hid her face behind his shoulder and tried hard not to think.

Mon-El, the prince, he had nice ... buttocks, at least as far as she could tell. And from the appreciative comments and dirty jokes of the other guards. Pert and round and well formed, except now she was up flush against him, trying everything _not_ to rock against them with each step. He didn't even acknowledge this. How could he be so calm? What did he intend to do with her anyway, after she had sought shelter in his suite? They hadn’t talked about it and even if he tried, she didn’t know if there was anything she could say. Of course, he could do as he wanted. Kara felt herself growing mad at him, at the world, at everything. But what use was it?

At last, she gave up on her struggle. The exhausted Kryptonian pressed her forehead against the prince’s back, unable to meet anybody's gaze. Her hands sank down to grip his belt. Kara tried very hard not to block out any conclusions that arose from this. Where her hand was. What it was close to. All those thoughts, all those impressions, she packed them up, squeezed them down into a tiny mental package, to store it away behind a large iron door of self discipline. Together with all the others.

Kara pictured the confines of her mind, like a large, neatly organized storeroom, happy childhood memories sitting next to moments of pride and educational achievement, for her to reach in when she felt lonely, next to others tinged with sadness. And in the middle of it, a large, strong, metallic box, no an entire transport container, large enough to house a giant beast. She imagined running her hands across it, taking in the simple, graceful lettering “Mon-El” and then slowly feeding yet another memory through a dark, one-way slit, as the box rumbled and strained, threatening to break open and flood her with images and sensations she didn’t know how to deal with. In the real world, her arms tightened once more around the prince, as she pushed down the frightful crate, deep into the depths of her subconsciousness and willing her mind to set on blank nothingness.

The steady motion of the dentra’s walk had a soporific effect once she stopped tensing up every time it propelled up against the prince’s back side. Kara found herself dozing off, her mind wandering more freely. She wondered if the prince did … things. With his tongue. Probably all Daxamites did. She had seen the other soldiers do that gesture where they formed a V with their fingers and stuck their tongue through it, wriggling it around obscenely right before they went to meet some of the female servants. _Disgusting. Indecent._ Who in their right mind would do that? Kara’s thighs closed tighter around the prince. She needed to that, to counteract the dentra’s sway, right?

Tension. That was her life here on Daxam. The constant fear of being found out. Here nestled against the prince’s form, maybe, just maybe nothing bad would happen for a while. Nobody was talking to her, she didn’t have to watch what she was saying. If she could let her guard down just for a moment. Kara rubbed her cheek against the prince’s back. Warm. Soft. In the background, Mon-El was still carrying on his conversation. Kara could feel each word rumble through his body. Her drifting mind just ignored the words, relishing the freedom of not having to parse the Daxamite language, focusing on just the sound of his voice. Its warm timbre sent pleasant shivers through her insides and she hugged on so tight, she was beginning to wonder if it was unpleasant for him.

Normally, Mon-El didn’t sound like this. Kara was used to a sharper color to his words, a small uptick at the end, a more pronounced modulation, often ending in a laugh, challenging his conversation partners into a reaction. Now his tones were more hushed and calm, like a loving teacher reading to an attentive child. Had the king and queen read to him? Was that something Daxamite parents did? If he had children one day, would he read to them, too? His hand had dropped down to cover hers and after the initial jolt, she got used to it, even though the smooth, sleek fabric of his gloves was cooler than what his hand would be. There was tension still, somewhere deep down in her core, but the rest of her felt like she might just fall apart, dissolve into liquid, right here on the beast’s back, so she could soak right through the prince’s clothes and slide along his skin.

Her mind wondered, what would happen if she pulled on his shirt, just a little, just right above his waist, pulling it loose from his belt, just far so she could slip her hand inside. Feel the heat there. No. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t be okay with her messing up his immaculate dress uniform. Kara had to admit that he’d looked quite fetching in it. Dark blue, close to dipping into black and the unusual choice of a belt. Thing golden threads weaved through the cloth, hiding from view, only to surprise the eye with the occasional glints. The matching dark pants sported darker, thicker insets on the inside of his thighs to make the long ride more comfortable. And of course, those gloves. Thinking about it, Kara felt herself starting to seethe at how he carried her around almost like an accessory, snuggled up against his back. Couldn’t he have worn a coat? Or just taking a proper vehicle like a normal person? Her fingertips moved along his hand, reaching the small strip of skin between where the glove ended and his sleeves began. She scratched it lightly and smiled against his shoulder when for the first time there was a stumble in his speech. Mon-El reached behind to caress her head. Maybe her lips brushed against his gloves, but if they did, that was okay, too.

Moments bled into each other. She lost track of time, swimming in a sea of thoughts. They might have been riding for hours, under the red sun, a sharp breeze tugging at their sides. Then suddenly, something changed about the tension in his muscles. Kara opened her eyes. They were approaching their destination. In the shade of a large ragged cliff a circular area had clearly been flattened ahead of time for their arrival. To the east, a small grove, likely springing up around an insular water source, sat on the edge of the camp, providing some addition protection from the winds. They came to a halt, the rest of the herd stopping with them. The prince clicked his tongue. His dentra obediently lowered its head, allowing him to swing his leg over the beast’s neck and jump to the ground, not bothering to wait for the servants with the auxiliary stairs.

Mon-El turned around and raised his arms, signaling that he wanted to help her down. Kara considered telling him that she could manage on her own, but she bit her tongue and let herself sink into his grasp. He held her up in the air, a bit longer than necessary, before setting her down. Or maybe she was just imagining it? She looked deeply into his eyes. His cheek, all smooth and clean for the occasion, looked lonely without her palm cradling it. Behind them, the merchant was still trying to get their, no his, attention. Mon-El’s hand slipped into hers and he pulled her along behind him, as they weaved a path through the milling guests and servants.

She followed him without thinking, like it was something she’d always done.

***

He found the location where the main tent was to be raised, a few makeshift logs already covered by carpets offering seating, meant to offer rustic, traditional charm, recalling Daxam’s baser past. Mon-El sank down and pulled the comet onto his lap. His arms immediately closed around the youth. Fuck. Bad idea. Too late to back down now. After all, he had ordered the comet to warm him, so who was going to challenge him on this?

A servant passed by, offering sweets on a golden plate and Mon-El reached for them. Without thinking offering the golden drops to Kar who took them quietly, palming them, before letting his hands sink down to his lap again.

Talar had followed them and took seat opposite of him, his secretary, a middle aged man with hard eyes, by his side, signaling that he was ready to graduate from idle small talk to the serious part of the negoation. Mon-El’s hand drummed absentmindedly against the shell of body armor that encased Kar’s chest and that had so obnoxiously been digging into his back for the entire ride. The casual negotiation continued from before, with the merchant only teasing towards more concrete conditions. Around them, servants milled around, erecting tents, carrying food to prepare a feast. A solider knelt down next to them, igniting a fire at their feet with a plasma torch.

Talar drowned on, emphasizing his words with extravagant gestures. Mon-El tried to concentrate on his words, instead of getting distracted by the comet’s gently sweet smell. Kar’s hands had sunk down and they now rested lightly on Mon-El’s. Talar must have noticed, too. Mon-El could sense him get irritated, staring at the way the prince’s fingers played with the boy’s midriff.

Abruptly, Mon-El parted his knees, letting the comet slide down to the ground between his feet, his hands coming to rest on the boy’s shoulders. Their negotiation continued without skipping a beat. Mon-El would have preferred to keep Kar up in his lap, up against his chest, but proper etiquette would have dictated to offer Kar’s mouth to his guest eventually. And Mon-El didn’t feel like sharing right now. Kar might be able to do what he wanted, but that didn't mean that Mon-El wanted to watch that old sycophant get to enjoy what Mon-El couldn't have anymore.

Mon-El felt a pang of regret. He probably shouldn’t have teased the comet the way he had, but the temptation to get a little revenge by forcing the boy to be around him had been too great. All it had gotten him was to be teased back. It wasn’t right. Above all, it wasn’t smart. Yeah, he had meant to keep on the charade, showing the rest of the guard corp that Kar was still in his favor, but it tempted him too close to that taboo incrossable line. His gaze traveled downwards, latching on to the graceful slope of the comet’s shoulder. The comet opened his palm, eyeing the gold colored candy, He began to unwrap them and brought them to his lips, licking probingly, suspiciously before sucking them into his mouth. Mon-El shifted uncomfortably. The little sounds the comet was making as he rolled the confection around with his tongue inside his mouth seemed impossibly loud, he almost expected the merchant to comment on it. Other guests joined them, offered small talk and compliments. Mon-El greeted them with gritted teeth. Between his legs, the comet was getting restless, rubbing his cheek against Mon-El’s knee, clearly bored by the conversation going on past his head. His pretty eyes scanned the camp and then he turned and lightly tugged at Mon-El’s pants. Mon-El leaned over, lending the boy his ear.

“May I leave?” the comet asked.

Mon-El frowned. “Sure.”

The comet smiled and rose slowly from his spot. “I want to check out the small grove over there,” he said sweetly. Mon-El’s heart thundered and his mouth went dry as he watched the comet make his way through the camp. Was the comet teasing him? Had something changed since their last meeting? Kar’s silhouette stood out as he crossed the barren steps on his way to the small grove. Did he want Mon-El to follow? Surely that was the only reasonable explanation, right? Why else would somebody choose to leave the camp to wander off to a more remote location? Mon-El found it hard to stick with his conversation, his eyes always drawn back to the spot where the comet had disappeared into the trees. Finally he gave up. “Excuse me,” he murmured, nodding towards his guest. Talar bowed his head, annoyed by the interruption, but apparently resigned to the idea that maybe if he let the prince dart off for a little relaxation, he’d come back with a mood more sympathetic to Talar’s cause.

Two guards immediately rose with him, following at a respectful distance. At the outskirts of the camp Mon-El raised his arm. “Leave me.” The two men exchanged looks. Mon-El smiled at them coldly. “I think I can make my way there without being assassinated. You swept the perimeter before setting camp, haven’t you?”

They bowed. “We will take position outside,” one of them said.

Mon-El’s heart thumped heavier as he parted the green thicket to step inside. Maybe something had changed. Maybe there was a miscommunication. They hadn’t really had the chance to talk after he’d woken up with Kar in his arms and in his bed. Taking back a renouncement, it wasn’t really a thing. Renouncements after all weren’t to be toyed around with. But maybe? Maybe it had only never happened, because nobody had ever tried. A spark of electricity raced down his spine as he spotted the comet, standing tall in the middle of the green, a pensive look on his pretty face. _I should have kissed you more, when I still had the chance._

Mon-El had a feeling, no matter what the comet decided to do, he was setting himself up to get burned.

***

Kara felt nervous excitement as she walked through the camp, the taste of the strangely sweet and sour drops still on her tongue. They had a reinvigorating effect on her, leaving her bouncing with energy. She crossed the few short steps across the desert floor towards the small grove. Her heart beat nervously. She told herself that she only wanted to check out the small spring that had to be the source of this small green oasis surrounded by dunes. Small creatures scuttled up the tree trunks as she stepped in.

The sand was still ever present, blown in from the outside, it permeated the ground. One might have expected a romantic waterfall or cozy little pond, and had it been Krypton, it probably would have been that way, but Kara wasn’t surprised that the true originator of the grove’s fecundity was just a plain, sandy hole in the ground, only the darker shade of sand betraying the moisture stemming from a bubbling up underwater stream. She knelt down on its edge, running her hand along the walls, feeling the cool, dewy earth.

Getting up, she looked around. Her eyes were captured by a small nest of twigs, on one of the lower branches of a slender azak tree, a tiny spotted egg still inside. She frowned.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” Kara whirled around. Of course it was him. She smiled. He might be a good dancer, but when it came to making his way through the undergrowth, he was about as stealthy as an offar. “I thought your had an important discussion you needed to complete.”

“It can wait,” he said simply.

Goose bumps broke out all over her arms when he looked at her like that and she found herself babbling nervously, suddenly remembering the warmth radiating from his body as they had traveled here.

“I was getting a strange feeling. From the grove here. Call it instincts. I know it’s probably nothing, but I wanted to check it out. Better be safe than sorry. I know it’s already been looked at, but maybe they missed something. After all, if I … ”

Mon-El stared at her. “You came here to work,” he said incredulously.

“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” she joked. “Besides,” she admitted, coyly lowering her eyes. “I was getting a bit bored.”

“Then, I’ll leave you to your task.” He turned around abruptly.

Kara blinked.

He seemed to be cross with her, as he stalked off. Kara shook her head. What reason would he heave to be upset? She'd done if for him, too, after all.

If only …

Her gaze was drawn back to the green forest floor. She couldn’t explain it, part of her expected footprints there, bigger ones than hers or his, only to always be surprised when there were none. If only she could make sense of what had drawn her here. Suddenly, Kara tasted blood dripping down on her lips. She looked up, instinctively expecting a predator from above. No, the blood was spilling from her nose. She froze. Combined with her throbbing temples, there was only one explanation.

***

“Thought beasts!”

The sudden cry brought the whole camp to its feet. From the edge of the woods, Kar was running towards them, repeating the warning. Eyes wild, blood on his face.

“What are you talking about, that's impossible,” the captain shouted, then suddenly stopped. He exchanged looks with Mon-El. They could feel it too now: a light buzz at the back of their brains, a subtle tremble of the earth beneath their feet.

“Evacuate, now!” the captain called.

Everybody leaped to their feet. Mon-El thought he heard some cries of panic. His eyes were still locked on Kar, as hands grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards.

“Kar, come with me.”

“I have to help,” the comet called, already on his way back. The smear of blood under his nose stood stark against the brightness of his eyes.

“Kar!”

“Go ahead,” the comet waved and before Mon-El could say something else, Kar had already turned around, rushing over to pull up a nervous servant who was scrambling to pack up a set of exquisite dining utensils.

“My liege,” the captain’s voice had grown more urgent. At his side a man in plain clothes with stern eyes appeared. Mon-El nodded to him.

“She's over there.” The closed the distance in lockstep as the camp dispersed around them. Only one vertibird had accompanied their trip, staying tastefully in the background. The trip had been meant to be a relaxing picnic after all, a friendly negotiation. They boarded the bird quietly and efficiently, with Mon-El in the middle of a protective bulk of guards. A woman in a green dress screamed and made a run for them, her outstreched fingers reaching for the entry hatch, only to be wrestled down.

Mon-El locked eyes briefly with Talar. The grey haired man bowed immediately and turned around, not even making an attempt to attain a spot on the aircraft. If Mon-El were to venture a guess, the merchant probably try to secure one of the few carrier hauls and make it far enough to escape the ire of the herd and be picked up. Even if with all his political weight, even with all his money, the radioed in reinforcements would not arrive in time.

The captain gave the signal, his call swallowed up by the noise. The blades of the bird whirred, its old fashioned engines roaring into action. Mon-El gritted his teeth. Their spot lay in the shade of a majestic cliff. As the bird rose, he could see the herd, as a giant cloud of dust, barreling towards their location. The thought beasts reacted violently to any and each technology, and during mating season, they would travel hundreds of achans to protect their territory. It was still rare to see them so far east. He tasted blood on his lips as the herd split to crowd around the cliff and poor into the area at its foot. His gaze was drawn back to the camp below.

A mess of dirt clouds and bodies and in its midst, the comet, darting around, lending a hand wherever he could, helping people up, guiding them to where they might escape the onrush. Mon-El’s stomach lurched as he watched Kar. The young guard cowered, hunched over, close to the ground. His eyes darted around nervously. Then, like a projectile shot from a string, he sprinted forward. Mon-El gripped the frame of the vertibird’s hatch as down below the comet’s feet hit the ground, his route crossing the path of the oncoming stampede as he made straight line towards the group of still bound dentras. On the last few steps, the comet stumbled and skidded more than ran towards his target. His blade glinted in the sun as he slashed at the straps keeping the normally mellow tempered mounts in place. The first one freed reared up, with a howl, its head jerking back to fully disloge the reins that kept it in place. Its would be savior had to roll, not to be torn under by the enormous pelted paws, only to rise again an raise his blade to the next frenzied beast. Mon-El felt nausea rise in his throat, his temples still throbbing from the influence of the telepathic horde. He couldn’t believe that the comet had rejected a spot on their escape vehicle and now was down there risking his life to free a flock of cattle.

“You really don’t know when to walk away, do you,” he murmured under his breath.

The captain grabbed Mon-El’s arm again. “My prince.” He didn’t have to say it. Mon-El knew full well that it wasn’t safe to stick around. The psychic aura of the thought beast herd was unpredictable. It wouldn’t the first time they brought down a bird by splitting the pilot’s skull.

Mon-El tore his gaze away. “Let’s go,” he said roughly. He turned his eyes on the captain. “If he survives this, bring him to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. In my minor defense, this was essentially two chapters originally, but I heard your requests for longer chapters. Also, if you have been waiting for Mon-El to lose his temper, next chapter is the one for you.


	15. Punishment (content notification: spanking, masturbation)

Kara stepped into the prince’s chamber, her nerves still singing with energy, a bounce in her step. To her surprise, she found him angry and fuming.

“What were you thinking?”

She blinked in confusion. What was he so upset about?

“You disobeyed me.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but he raised his hand, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Across my lap, now.”

Kara stared at him, mouth agape. He couldn’t be serious.

Their eyes did battle.

He really was serious. She blinked. The, the insolence! Outrage bubbled up inside of her. Kara realized she shouldn’t do it, that she should be demure, just take it like a Daxamite would, but she couldn’t help herself. With an exaggerated motion Kara threw her head back, only to have it dawn on her that she was trying to flip back hair that was no longer there.

Her hands dropped down to her belt, to strip it off. Can’t let it be uncomfortable for the prince after all. Rao beware, it could end up digging into his skin. She let it fall down on the low table next to the sofa. If her eyes could kill, she would have burned him to a crisp right on the spot. Kara stalked over to him, her every movement signaling how impossible she found his behavior, her anger rising with each step.

After all, she was Kara Zor-El. She was a star level student, an exemplary daughter, a member of the Kryptonian information bulletin. Nobody had ever dared to touch her. What barbarism! How dare he!

When she reached him, she leaned forward and looked him squarely in the eye once again, before, still fuming quietly, lowing herself onto his lap.

***

Mon-El blinked. The comet was finally mostly done with his little show of defiance, still huffing and puffing, grumbling, shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position across Mon-El’s legs before stilling. From the start, Mon-El had always known that his little would-be conquest was special, but he hadn’t been prepared for such a full blown drama queen performance. The comet was not pleased and didn’t care who else knew that.

In a different situation, had things not been so serious, it might have been adorable.

Mon-El stared down on the body laying across his lap. It occurred to him that he had never done this before when it wasn’t explicitly invited by a lover’s request. Now then he had done it enthusiastically and, dare he say, quite skillfully, enjoying the additional variety of options it provided. But like this? As correction? It had never been hard to weasel out of these situations before, nobody expected a noble to carry out the punishments they commanded. Everybody just assumed their time was too precious for such menial things.

He ran his hand over the comet’s clothed backside. “Do you understand what you did wrong?” he asked.

The comet tensed, but didn’t reply. Probably quietly bristling at his fate.

Mon-El sighed. He slung one arm around the boy’s neck, resting his forehead against the boy’s head, hearing, no, feeling the boy’s deep breathing. “I’m going to start now,” he announced. He brought his palm down on the boy’s behind and Kar jerked forward, hissing in surprise. Perfect blue eyes glowered at Mon-El. Mon-El brought his hand down again. The comet let out a deep, ragged breath.

He let his hand rest on the boy’s ass for a moment, fighting the urge to caress it and follow each sting up with seduction and mollify it with his lips.

“It hurts less if you relax,” he whispered. Kar just scowled. So Mon-El continued his ministrations, opting for a steady rhythm, alternating the cheeks. Kar twitched and mewled, grinding on his lap. Slowly, over time, the comet’s breath grew unsteady, coinciding with each time Mon-El’s hand connected with his ass. Almost imperceptibly Kar’s stance widened, the bucking hips subtly straining towards the blows as if to welcome them, to meet them sooner. There was something hypnotic to Mon-El about the rhythmic tense and release of the muscles. The proximity, the heady aroma of their bodies was getting to him.

Finally the body on his lap went slack, Kar’s head dropping forward in surrender. Mon-El could feel the heat radiating off him. Kar was breathing through his half opened mouth, each time the air from the comet’s lips caressing Mon-El’s arm.

Mon-El pulled his hand away. The comet slipped from his lap, bonelessly, coming at a stop kneeling on the floor. Kar looked up, body swaying, eyes confused and blown out, lips parted, pink and swollen from where the comet had bit down on them. Failing his fight for self control Mon-El cupped the boy’s face with his hands, framing it with his fingers. The comet looked at him with pure wonder, like somebody who had just seen a vision from the god, like a boy on the first day of temple.

When the comet had walked in, Mon-El had been so angry he found it hard to speak. Now, he didn’t know what to say. Deep down Mon-El knew that he shouldn’t linger. What he needed was to tear himself away and learn to resist the temptation to go easy on the comet.

He let the boy’s chin slip from his hand, as he stood up.

"You! Wait here."

***

He was gone.

Kara blinked.

Even blinking felt slow, like her eyelashes had to fight through molasses. Her whole body felt hyper sensitive, every caress of her clothes against her skin like it might send her into tremors, every little shift in the center of her gravity suddenly as large as mountains moving. Inside of her a battle was being fought, her adrenaline trying spike though the pleasant daze of endorphines that made her feel pleasantly sluggish. Her whole body was warm and her skin… her skin felt sensitive and alive. It was like she was floating. The tip of her tongue darted out to touch her upper lip.

She sank back, only to jolt up again when her stinging behind connected with her heels. Groggily she struggled up. Her legs felt wobbly. Why did it suddenly seem so much colder? Kara ran her palm over her arm, feeling the tiny hairs on her skin. Touch. Touch was good. Kara was swaying lightly on her feet, almost if any breeze could knock her over, almost like her body was being carried along by a current. She would push through the fog clouding her mind. She would. It was only a matter of time. Just, not right now. Not when it felt good to let sensations flooding though her body carry her away.

Slowly her senses came back to her, except there was still this heated, throbbing feeling deep down in her core. It would pass.

Kara Zor-El. Kryptonian. That was her. That was real. The real her.

Kara began to pace back and forth, unable to quite contain her nervousness. She threw a few sideways glances at the lush furniture, but she couldn't quite bring herself to sit down. It looked tempting, but if she got caught, it would be considered inappropriate. Even though it was considered beyond appropriate for a Daxamite to at least try to circumvent the rules, that wasn't her way. And, knowing Mon-El, he might even find it entertaining, if he came back and found her in his chair.

Besides - her mouth formed a pout - her behind was still smarting. Let him be aware of that.

***

Seven slaves, seven slaves and one free born servant. Those were the names Talar had provided, for the slaves to be executed and the servant to be thrown in jail. Mon-El flipped through the report. Destroyed property, dead animals. Injuries. A heart attack. Extensive reports on ruined wardrobe. And of course endangering and embarrassing the prince.

It wasn’t really a big deal, even though the advisers wouldn’t see it like that. They were here to represent the interest of the crown. Of his parents. To uphold the careful balance of intimidation. Their arguments went round and round. In the end some sort of price would be paid to save face. Maybe some other offer would be made, a last ditch effort by the merchant to attain the boon he was looking for. Of course it couldn’t come as part of the official penance, likely it would appear in the form of a completely spontaneous generous donation to the royal house.

Mon-El wondered whether that was what would please his mother, if they managed to squeeze Talar for more. It was hard to predict what she and the king wanted in this case. Mon-El had been surprised that Rhea had even considered it, considering Talar had been very obvious in making sure the path to the mining licenses was clear. Wouldn’t it be more like her to punish the merchant for being too obvious? Mon-El didn’t care about taking Talar’s life, especially since his mother likely wouldn’t agree with it anyway. In fact, he would have preferred not to be involved in this at all, but it will irked him that the man would just get what he wanted.

After all, Talar hadn’t even bothered to offer any credible explanation, why the names he had provided were even connected to setting up the trip. Maybe the free servant had been, and the other had just been added to give a bit more weight to the deal. But wasn’t a master ultimately responsible for choosing suitable servants? Except Talar was an influential man, somebody with connections off world and somebody the queen might or might not still have plans for. After all, she had ordered her own son to agree to his meeting.

It would be so easy to just tune out, in the end, they would come to a decision anyway. Mon-El flexed his fingers, resisting the urge to rub his temple. Normally he wouldn’t care to let the council know how tiresome their meetings were and how useless he found them, but this one was different. His mood was gloomy and he was angry at himself.

“Take his arm,” he said, cutting through the conversation. Taken aback they turned their faces to stare at him. Mon-El shrugged. “Take his arm,” he repeated. “And send back his servants.”

What would the queen think of his decision? Would she be pleasantly surprised? Or upset by his foray? Or would she just nonchalantly overrule his order and just do as she pleased anyway? Chances were that that was exactly what would happen. Unless she was suspicious enough by his sudden thirst for blood that she would want to let him continue for a while, just to see how his presumed new attitude was developing, deciding whether it was time to cut him down to size again.

Games within games. Only Mon-El wasn’t even sure what any of them were playing for. He just longed for this meeting to be over. He grinned at the council provocatively.

“Anything else?”

***

Kara rolled her shoulders. Her gaze wandered to a large glass front window. The desert looked endless from up here. Forlorn. She supposed it would look prettier when the sun was rising or setting.

Behind her, she heard the familiar whirr of the elevator and turned around. The doors slid open, birthing Mon-El, an aide at his side, emerging from it with fast steps. He must have forgotten that he told her to wait, because he seemed surprised to see her there. Their eyes met.

“Leave us.”

The young man at Mon-El’s side looked around, taking a moment to realize that the order was addressed at him.

Kara waited patiently till he had retreated, the door sliding door behind him. A strange sense of warmth washed over her. Mon-El looked at her long and what she she assumed was to be sternly. Then, shaking his head, he slipped out of jacket and casually threw it on the couch. He walked over to pour himself some wine and then let himself fall into his chair. His hair looked adorably messy, Kara thought to herself.

"Just so you know,” he said, “ I'm still mad at you."

Kara grinned and stepped closer. "Well, I'm mad at you too." She wouldn’t back down in front of this man who thought he could rule over her, just because he mistakenly assumed that she too was Daxamite.

Mon-El raised an eyebrow. Kara stared at him. Was ... was he pouting? He jumped up and used his superior height to look down on her.

"I'm the prince, you don't get to be mad at me."

"Is that so?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I must have missed that during instruction."

"It's sort of implied," he said huskily.

Kara bit down the temptation to launch into a lecture on the unassailable right to free thought and the societal value of open criticism. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I did nothing wrong."

"You scared me!"

"I was fulfilling my purpose!"

"I! I already told you that outside of maybe throwing yourself on top of grenade in case of an assassination attempt, the role of my guard is largely ceremonial. It's certainly not your place to tangle with wild thought beasts!"

"I was protecting your guests."

“To hell with my guests!”

Kara gasped for air. How, how could he, how could anybody show that little concern for others. “Fine!” she yelled.

“Exactly!” They stood almost nose to nose, glaring at each other.

“You can leave now.”

“I will!”

“Good.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

***

Mon-El stared incredulously after the boy sauntering off. Mon-El couldn't make sense of him. It was if nothing seemed to phase that boundless determination.

A part of him almost felt envy. No. Mon-El shook his head. It was tempting to drown in self pity, but he didn’t even know the kind of life Kar had lived before coming here, what he had had to do to come here. Normally he wasn’t the kind to question the way things were, the fate that was etched into his cells, but seeing the comet… it was like the the young man had carved out his own little place in the universe for himself, a place where normal rules didn’t exist. When looking into the comet’s eyes, it was so close Mon-El thought he might be able to taste it, to drink it from the comet’s lips, even if it was just for one moment, just for one night.

After all, who was he in the end, who were any of them really? Just actors on a stage morbidly enacting the roles that fate had given them, right? But something about the comet was different, it felt like he had found a way to break the mold of expectations and life’s trappings. It made Mon-El feel responsible for this reckless stranger who had been stumbled into his princely web and who didn’t want to take part in this performance.

Staring out into the desert, he told himself that he’d been well within his right to punish Kar. Nalana Vex’s complaint on behalf of her son would have been more enough to justify it. And the comet’s continued defiance… But was this really the reason why he’d been punished? Or was it, at least some of it, for the sting of helplessness Mon-El had felt when the comet had turned his back to run back into the middle of chaos and danger?

He, he didn’t want to be _that_. Mon-El didn’t have any illusions about being a good person, but he’d always hated people who caused others unnecessary pain and took joy from that. The world was already full enough of people who caused suffering, because they saw it as the only way, because it was part of life. But to go beyond that? Clearly the comet, being around the comet was making him lose his judgment, his values. And he didn’t want to be that, didn’t want to be the one to cause the comet pain, just for the crime of having caught the eye of his prince. The world wasn’t a fair place and if he couldn’t change that, at least he didn’t want to add more to it than necessary.

No matter how much he craved being close to the comet, he had to accept that it was better to stay away.

***

Leaving the prince’s quarters behind, Kara snuck down to the third level facilities. She craved, no needed some peace and those dull stalls were the only area in the fortress that guaranteed a minimum of privacy. The Daxamites cared little about the comfort of their subjects, but even they recognized the occasional need for secrecy. And so these existed, to allow for those things that were considered off limits even by their standards.

The concept had always baffled Kara. From the point of view of a Kryptonian, why would one create rules and supervision, only to set up a place where they could be broken? In a world where every debauchery was allowed or at the most considered an odd habit, a world that prided itself in its violence, what did Daxamites do here? Did they sneak off in secret to read poetry and pet small furry animals? Reality was much more disillusioning. The facilities were a hub for trade of things that should not have been stolen and for confrontations that were too mundane to be settled by a duel.

Every morning a squad of servants swept in to clean and check for dead bodies. Entry and exit was still strictly monitored, but inside, for once, privacy. Sneaking into the most remote stall, Kara breathed deeply. She braced herself against the wall with one hand. Her head tilted forward. Breathe. Breathe. A slow shudder traveled through her from her toes to her head.

Her behind still stung. Red. Angry. Pulsating.

She wanted to do … to him … with him? She was angry at him, wasn‘t she? Kara‘s thoughts blurred together. She let her hands travel dawn her chest, over her belly, the guard uniform stiff and coarse against her palm. One little 'plop' and her pants were unfastened. She let her hand slip inside. A shudder rolled through her body. She needed this. Her, her behind, no, her _ass_ still stung, she needed to distract herself. Pleasure. Pleasure to mix with the pain and dull it, swirl it, form it into something new.

It felt so good to touch herself, her true self, again. A woman, not a boy.

_I shouldn't do this._

_Its forbidden._

The words shot through her head. And yet she couldn't stop. Her cheeks burned at the indecent sounds, her fingers, indecent, rustling, shaping, pulling. She imagined HIM, coming up from behind, taking control of her hands, pressing up against her aching buttocks. His arms trapping her before she could jerk away.

_Sir._

_Your grace._

_My prince._

_My master._

No.

_Mon-El._

Kara hips jerked forward, onto her hand. Desperately she forced more fingers inside, as if more would help to fix that dull ache. She needed more, more to get rid of the vision haunting her, that image of his breath on the back of her neck, his hands on her hands, his touch like a whisper from behind. Her climax slammed through her, like lighting to her spine. Her eyes tore open and she caught a glimpse of herself, her gaze wild, features slack, cheeks red, lips wet and gasping.


End file.
